Explaining is an Admission of Failure
by Writerforthem
Summary: It turns out Dean was right.The world wanted to end.It didn't take long after the leviathans got the upper hand for everything to start going down the drain.And it went fast.The Winchesters haven't been seen for months.Some think they're dead.
1. Prologue

**This will be my first long Supernatural fic. Something I started writing just from the thought about how the Winchester brothers are legends to the hunting community. How in the episode 'Dark side of the moon' they didn't let Dean live because his reputation was so well known. How dangerous he was, especially when it came to Sam. And i thought... what if other people knew about them? And then from recent episodes, i've thought about what would happen if the leviathans took over. **

**From those thoughts, came my post Leviathan Apocalypse world.  
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* * *

><p><strong>Explaining is an Admission of Failure<strong>

**Prologue  
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It turns out Dean was right. The world wanted to end. It didn't take long after the leviathans got the upper hand for everything to start going down the drain. And it went fast. Like a flood overtaking the desert when it finally decides to rain. It washed everything with it. A lot didn't fare well. Even more didn't survive. The country turned into what could almost be called a post-apocalyptic world. Though the apocalypse was what had actually been averted.

It didn't always look like a dead world. Some cities looked better than others in the beginning. Some weren't burned down. Some actually had electricity. Some people actually pretended that life went on as normal. But it didn't. The government is gone. Infiltrated and dismembered. People were eaten whenever the mood struck the monsters now at the top of the food chain. It was just a new common fact.

If you looked closer though, you'd see the change. You'd see the scars left cut in the rock by the flood. You'd see the way people hid. See the way cities were slowly falling apart against their will. Even the better looking ones were getting dark. Random house fires. Camps instead of communities. Every city slowly turning into a war zone. The wall was rising. People wanted out. Eventually the transition was complete. It was a step away from the destruction Dean saw in a possible future thanks to Zachariah way back when.

Those strong enough started to fight. Those too weak tried to flee. Most were eaten. It was then that Hunters were acknowledged though very few were actually known. Most stayed in the dark out of protection for themselves. Only a few names were whispered around the fires in camps or in dark homes. The names said the most were whispered in almost awe. Singer. Winchester. And even sometimes stories of the Roadhouse were passed around.

Now that the unbelievable was believed, the stories of how the world was saved once before were coming to light. Credit was given to those who stopped the devil. Heroes were named. No one talked much of the angel who helped, unable to say the name without fighting about if he was good or evil in the end. It was just there. The story of Castiel stopped soon after the talk of the return of the younger brother from the cage. They let the angel fade into the new story about the destruction of their world. Some hoped he'd return to help.

Singer and the Winchesters haven't been seen for months. Not after the leviathans got the upper hand and cities were burned and eaten. Some think they're dead. Others have taken their names on as a hope for the future. The stories told by those who have been saved in the past are circulated regularly. Most argue that they've survived too much to have just disappeared without a word of defiance. They wait for the end to come in the form of the Winchesters stepping up. It's all the hope they have left now.

No one knows what happened the day the leviathans revealed themselves. All they know is what was seen. Fires. Attacks. And words spoken by the leader about the continent of North America being theirs now. The name Winchester was said. None can recall how it was used. But they know that day was the effect of them trying to stop the creatures. And failed. No one knows how or why. But with the legends of their other hunts floating through the camps, they all know that if the world is to be saved, it will be by them in the end. Just like always.

Besides. Losing the first battle means knowledge for the second. The next time the Winchesters show up, they'll be ready for the kill.


	2. Chapter 1

**Ch. 1**

The newcomers walking into the camp aren't spared a second look, even though their height make them almost tower over most of the rest. Most people who look the first time are too afraid to look again in case they make eye contact. The men go straight to the only bar there is in the camp. They don't even care to look around them. They look dangerous enough not to care. It's easy to see the two are soldiers fighting against the leviathans. It's hard to scare those types of people.

These two men though, they look different from the rest. Even more dangerous than other soldiers. Even more seasoned. But none look close enough, too busy trying to avoid the feeling of unease they get when looking at them. If they did look, they'd see the chinks in their armor that are still being fixed. The very slightest of limps in the shorter one's step, the taller one keeping a finger caught in a dip of the shorter one's jacket sleeve, and the way neither of them are even the slightest bit relaxed though they look it. Little signs of the less than strong interior covered by their rough exterior.

Walking into the bar, the taller one twitches slightly at the sound of glasses being dropped on the table. The shorter one leans just slightly closer to him for a split second, making the taller relax. The exchange is almost unnoticeable. They walk over to a corner table where a slightly older man is already sitting. No one pays them any attention. People passing through is no oddity here.

"How've you guys been doin'?"

"As good as we ever are these days."

He looks to the other man. "How you doin' Sam?" He eyes the way Sam's face is like stone. The face of someone unpredictable. He'd be nervous if Dean weren't here too.

Hazel eyes dart up, the slight edge of a smile showing through a hard face. "Better." His voice is gritty. Unused?

"And he's not lying Mark."

Mark chuckles. "I can see he's doing better. I'm surprised actually."

Sam shrugs. "Dean helps." Definitely not used to talking much, Mark decides. How weird. He distinctly remembers Dean talking a lot. How would Sam get away without talking?

He nods in reply to Sam's answer. That's all the explanation he expected. The brothers don't get really personal with anyone anymore. They keep to themselves these days.

Dean looks over at Sam, but addresses Mark. "Every day is a question. Each one turns out to have an answer."

Sam snorts almost humorlessly. Almost.

Mark quirks a half grin. These two brothers and their inside sayings... "So. You guys about ready to hear what's been goin' on the past few months?"

Dean nods, leaning back in the booth. His left leg falls over to bump Sam's knee with his. "No one's falling apart anymore," he says with a grin, hand absently running over said left knee in an unconscious reaction.

Mark chuckles. "That's good. Because it's about time we end the reign of the leviathans don't you think?"

Dean rolls his eyes. "Don't ever ask that question, Mark."

He nods. "Fair enough." He leans forward, hands entwining on the table top. "It's time to head east. It's where most of the attacks are happening. We think they're going to start a westward motion within the next month or so. Reports from recon are coming in that they're planning on rounding up people. Doing a number on them almost like that turducken thing you told us about in the beginning. Subduing them and taking them in. Not eating them all. Keeping them."

Dean frowns. "Storing them."

"And possibly…"

Sam wrinkles his nose. "Reproduction."

Mark nods. "Farming."

Dean snorts. "That doesn't make it sound any better."

Mark shrugs wryly.

"And there's still no help from other countries?"

Mark sighs. "They're all readying themselves for the attack on their own land. They know it's coming soon. They're trying to come up with ways to kill them. So far, nothing. But we have guys keeping track. If they figure out something, we'll know. But they don't want to get involved until they have a surefire way to get rid of them."

"No attracting attention to more easy prey," Sam murmurs.

"Bingo." Mark looks from Sam to Dean. "You guys ready to get back in the game? We've needed a little extra help."

Dean looks over and slightly up at Sam. "Whaddya say Sammy? Ready to get back to what we do best?"

Sam raises an eyebrow, but quirks an almost-smile. "I don't know, Dean. Do we still do it the best?"

Dean glares. "Why do I ever bring you anywhere?"

Sam doesn't answer, only lets out a smile though soft and small before it disappears and he looks back to Mark.

Dean looks back to him too. "We're in."

Mark nods, motioning for the bar tender. "Alright. Welcome to squad seven. Drinks on me, then we're headed to the camp."

A few drinks later (only one for Sam) and the three are walking out of the camp going the opposite way the two came in. No one pays attention to the three men. Some just look at the two closer together, wondering what about them sparks something in their memory.

* * *

><p>"We'll probably make it tomorrow around seven. We're about half way there. We'll just bunk down for the night. Sunrise work for you?"<p>

Dean nods. "That's fine." He heads towards the room farthest down the hall of the dark house. Sam follows, Dean's shadow tied to him like a string. When they get inside the room and Dean closes the door, a weight lifts off Sam's shoulders, letting him breathe easier and giving him the ability to relax. Dean motions towards the bed. "Sit. Shirt off."

Sam sighs.

"We need to check it, Sam. Do you want to have nightmares?"

"It's been working, Dean. It's fine."

"I just need to make sure."

Sam doesn't argue. He knows it'll make Dean rest easier just to look. He pulls his shirt over his head as Dean pulls one of their battery powered lamps out of his bag. He closes his eyes and relaxes, feeling Dean sit behind him and seeing the faint glow of light through his eye lids. "It's fine, isn't it?" he asks as he feels Deans hands move his back around to look at the lines of the wide symbol on it in the light.

"Don't be a smart ass. Bitch."

He smiles.

"It's fading though."

His smile disappears, eyes opening. "What do we do then?"

Dean sighs. "I hate to say it, but we do it again. Until we find a tattoo parlor with clean needles and good ink left."

Sam grimaces. The first time was bad enough. "So the scar is fading?"

"Around some edges."

"Great." He pulls his shirt back on.

"We have painkillers this time."

Sam shakes his head, turning to lay on his back. Swinging his legs over his brother's head to lay flat, they barely miss swiping him. He grins at Dean's glare. Then looks serious. "No need to waste them. I made it through the first time."

Dean frowns. "Sam…"

"I'll be fine again."

Dean cringes at the thought of hurting Sam again. Even if it is to keep the nightmares and memories away. It takes a long time. "Too bad we couldn't find a permanent spell." He stands, throwing his jacket on the back of a chair and pulling a gun and knife out of his bag before making his way over to the bed. He slides them under the pillow after sitting down.

"I'm glad you found something at all, Dean."

Dean shrugs, turning to fall backwards, laying almost exactly like Sam. He moves his arms up to rest his head on his hands. "You sure you're ready for this?"

Sam snorts. "No. But if we wait until then, everyone will be dead."

Dean doesn't comment. The room is silent for a long time.

"Your knee okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You ask me, I ask you. Only fair."

Dean rolls his eyes, rolling over to his side. "Just keep to your side of the bed, sasquatch." He closes his eyes as Sam chuckles, but listens until Sam's breaths even out before letting himself drift off too.

Sam makes it without nightmares to Dean's relief. But as usual, an arm is thrown over his chest when he wakes up and it's way too hot to stay in bed any longer. It's routine now. Sam's arm or leg spread out enough to flop on him. Better than pushing him off he supposes. He just lifts it up, dropping it as he gets up and puts his weapons back in his bag. Sam doesn't even stir.

He throws his jacket at Sam's head. "Sam. Time to go. Sun will be up in a few minutes. Then we're outta here."

Sam groans, not even looking as his arm throws the jacket back in the direction it came from before flopping back down.

Dean catches the jacket without looking. He doesn't even bother turning around. He knows the routine by now.

Sam slowly pushes himself up, running a hand through his hair to push it back out of his way. "Your internal clock never ceases to amaze me."

Dean grins. "Big brother skill. C'mon Sammy. Get up."

"I'm up."

Dean grins to himself. Their roles have been reversed over the years. It used to be Sam who was the morning person, waking Dean up who grumped about early wake up calls. Now though, Sam's body has accustomed itself to get as much sleep as possible before a nightmare takes a night away. Which hopefully won't be happening anymore.

"I want coffee."

"Don't have coffee."

"I know." Sam shuffles over to where he left his jacket the night before, then goes to stand by Dean at the door of the bedroom. He sighs once before finally opening his eyes and running a hand through his hair to get it out of his face for the last time. "I'm ready."

Dean pats his chest twice before turning around. "Today is a new question."

"I'm going to find the answer," Sam mumbles back. "With yer help," he tacks on.

Dean chuckles.

He follows Dean's slight shadow down the hallway with his head drooped and hands in his pockets. Mornings are the worst. He's still trying to get back to himself. Feel as strong as he used to. As self-assured. It hasn't been easy getting to this point. But Dean helps. He keeps him close at all times. In fact, it's technically Dean that protects him from nightmares.

"You sure you're awake?"

Sam looks up from under his bangs to see Dean's slightly amused face. "Working on it." He yawns, looking around to where the horizon is lighter. His shoulder leans into Dean's. His brow furrows. "Where'd we leave the impala?"

Dean frowns for a second before letting it go. He knows Sam forgets things sometimes. His mind has been fragile since the break. Forgetting random things isn't that bad. "Dad's lockup remember? It took us hours to make room for it," he answers, handing Sam their last bag of chips from his duffel.

Sam suddenly grins at the memory. "A shelf almost fell on you."

"Because _you_ pushed it," he grunts. "Freakin' giant."

Sam laughs, honest to God laughs, for the first time in about a week. He almost chokes on a chip in the process.

Dean smiles. As he opens his own bag. It's the best sound he's heard in a long time. "Quiet Sammy, you'll wake the neighbors."

Sam snorts another soft laugh. "Yeah. The ones twenty miles away?"

"Your laugh? Yes."

Sam shoves him with his shoulder, grin still in place.

Dean takes that as a sign that it will be a good day. "Where'd that question come from anyway?"

Sam shrugs, smile dimming but turning more fond. "Miss it I guess."

Dean nods. Instead of standing here, shoulder to shoulder, they'd be leaning against the Impala. Doing just that. "Me too."

"You ever gonna get it back?"

Dean shrugs. "Someday. Kinda wanna check on her though. Hope she's still locked up." He huffs once. "Hate the thought of someone getting in there."

Sam nods.

They stand in silence for a few seconds and finish their chips before footsteps approach from behind. Sam tenses, but relaxes again when Dean touches his arm. "Mark. Remember?"

He nods. Let's out a breath. "Yeah." He squeezes his eyes shut for a few seconds before huffing out a deep breath. "Sorry."

Dean pats his arm before turning. "No need to be sorry." He grins at Mark as he gets closer. "Morning."

Mark nods. "Morning. Sleep well?"

Dean nods. "Perfect."

Only Sam notices the slight relief in his voice. He feels slight satisfaction that he was the one that caused that. Not waking him with nightmares like he feared.

"We'll need to travel carefully today. We go right between two leviathan posts about four hours from here. As long as we're quiet and careful we'll get through just fine. The camp is about five hours away from that."

"Awfully close don't you think?" Dean comments.

Mark grins suddenly. "Oh our camp isn't just a camp."

Dean nods. "That's right. That's why you asked me to come."

Mark nods. "We're The Compound. All soldiers stop there before they go out to separate camps. We're the base of operations. And we're waiting for you two."

Sam snorts, suddenly looking quite irritated.

Dean looks to him, tilting his head slightly.

Sam scowls. "I'm not going to be much help."

"Sam…"

"You kidding?" Mark cuts in. "Sam Winchester? The guy who saved the world?"

Sam looks at him, wide eyed.

Dean looks at him too, thrilled with how his brother is known to the hunting community. "It's about time he got some damn credit for what he did."

Mark grins at Sam's look. "You ever sit in the middle of a camp when the moon is bright and listen to people tell stories around their bonfire?"

Sam shakes his head, still dumbstruck.

Mark puts a hand on Sam's shoulder, ignoring the slight flinch when he sees Dean lightly touch the other arm and sees Sam relax again. "Winchester is the name whispered around the camp fires. Sam and Dean are the names known to hunters only. You and your brother are legends now. Mostly thanks to bored hunters and people you've saved. And a hunter who got the whole story from Bobby Singer when he bragged about you two."

At the mention of Bobby, both brothers get the same look on their face. A loving, yet sorrowful look.

Mark gently takes his hand from Sam's shoulder so as not to spook him again. He doesn't fully understand the extent of damage, but he knows Sam's a little more fragile mentally than he used to be. Especially with the way Dean watches over him. "You guys have been through more than anyone just from the crap you were caught up in. And now you're right in the middle of this too though you think you're out of the fight. Legends don't give up, do they?"

Sam looks to Dean, eyes wide and frantic with everything Mark just told them.

Dean looks up at him, gives him his signature smirk, and winks at him. "Yeah, Sammy. Do legends give up?"

Sam's face calms at the familiar display of cockiness. He draws strength from Dean's faith in him. Always has. "I guess not," he finally murmurs, looking back to Mark.

Mark grins. "I can see you're not exactly the Sam Winchester you used to be," he allows. "Though I never truly knew who that was. But what I see now, is someone who is still dangerous. He just needs to remember it."

Sam's face turns serious, jaw clenching as he nods once.

Mark looks to Dean to see a striking look of thanks on his face. It's obvious he knew Sam needed to hear the same thing he says from someone else. He pats Dean's arm as he goes around him in a silent 'you're welcome'. He likes these boys. Bobby was right about them. "C'mon boys. Daylight's awaistin'."


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter updates might slow down due to homework. Being an art major is very time consuming. But i will do my best to keep updates at a reasonable interval. I know how it is when someone takes months to update a story or discontinues it.  
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**Ch. 2  
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Five Months Ago. North Carolina.

"Sammy. Don't do this to me now. I thought you were alright. I thought you were doing okay. Don't do this to me now. Wake up. Sam!" Sam doesn't answer. So Dean does the only thing he can think of doing. He grabs his brother, hoisting him up to hold his arm over his shoulders and starts dragging him. "Geeze Sasquatch. It would really help if you were awake right now."

Buildings all around them are burning. Smoke is creating a fog through the streets. Dean pulls his brother with him down the sidewalk, stumbling under the weight more than once. No one else is here. Everyone who could get away did so hours ago. He and Sam with three others were the only ones stupid enough to try to stop them. The leviathans. He and Sam are the only ones left that he knows of.

They were right there. Right at the front door of the building where Dick was. But there were also other leviathans. And they had discovered something that was new and fun to them. Blowing things up. Before Sam or Dean could react, fire was everywhere. They were destroying the already empty city, planning to make it their base of operations. The group was too late to stop them. They never had a chance.

"It would be awesome if you could wake up now, Sam," Dean grunts. The smoke is getting thinner. He's making it farther away from the worst of it. But there's no telling if anyone is after them.

It wasn't the first explosion that got them. They were able to get away from that one mostly unscathed. It was farther down the street where they were attacked. Thrown around by a creature or two until the canisters near them were set alight like the ones before. The explosion blew them off their feet, sending Sam into the side of a building. His head collided with the brick wall, making Dean cringe. He had scrambled over to Sam's side, looking around them for any more leviathans as he started to shake his brother.

"There you are."

Dean stops when the figure shows up in front of him. "Damnit." His hands tighten on Sam. Could he make a run for it?

"I wouldn't recommend that," the leviathan says as if reading his thoughts. "You won't get very far."

Dean stays still. Maybe. Just maybe he can do something else. Not enough to kill it, but enough to buy him and Sam some time. He shifts his hold on Sam. Right hand tightly around the wrist of Sam's arm he's holding over his shoulder, left arm around his waist. He takes a steadying breath. "Well aren't you going to finish us off?"

The leviathan steps forward. "I've always preferred my meat cooked."

Dean grimaces inwardly, preparing for his attack. When the leviathan gets within five feet of him, he lets Sam drop, hand going to the blade strapped to his waist. He can barely get his hand wrapped around it before a bone-jarring punch lands his jaw, sending him backwards. He hits the ground hard, rolling back up to his feet even as he tries to get his bearings. He brings a hand up to his jaw, grimacing but happy it's not broken.

The leviathan walks up to him. "You're going to have to try harder than that."

When Dean goes for him again, it doesn't go much more smoothly. His first swing is dodged, the second coming around right after to aim for the lowered neck. It doesn't make it. Instead, the leviathan again swings at him. This time, he throws his whole body into it. Dean is thrown again. Hard. One hit to God knows what, laying in the road and his leg snaps.

Dean cries out, lying on his back as he waits for the pain to leave. It's the same leg as before. Most likely in the same spot. Which totally isn't going be good later when it tries to heal. He groans, hand still tight around the handle of the blade in his hand. He stays down, waiting for the leviathan to get closer. Listening to his steps until he's standing right next to him.

As the leviathan leans down, reaching to fist a hand in Dean's jacket, Dean goes for it. One strong swing at the creatures neck, a burst of energy that surprises him, and the head falls to the ground. Then he's scrambling to get Sam back up again, the pain in his leg a dull throb in the background. This time he hears Sam groan. "Sammy? Sam!" He hauls Sam up again. "You with me?"

"Ungh."

It isn't reassuring, but it's enough. "C'mon Sam. Help me out here. We have to go. We've gotta get outta here Sammy." He starts walking, sneering in disgust as he sees the head already trying to reattach to the body. He moves faster. He gets around the corner of a building before ducking through another one. He pauses inside, shrugging his shoulder next to Sam. "You with me?"

Sam lets out a single breath. "Dean."

"Right here bro."

"It hurts, Dean."

He hates the way his brother sounds like he's eight again, falling off his bike for the first time. "What hurts?"

"The fire burns. Make it stop. Make it stop, Dean. It burns."

"Easy Sammy. We're away from the fire. There's no fire here." He starts moving towards the door opposite the one he came in through. It's time to get Sam out of here. He's about to have a break down. He knows Sam isn't talking about the fire around them, but the fire in his memories.

Sam whimpers. Honest to God whimpers. "Don't let them hurt me, Dean."

"I won't. I'm right here Sammy." He gets out the door, heading away from all of the fire behind them. Struggling under his brother's weight to get away from the creatures that want them dead. It feels like his leg is on fire. Might as well be. "They won't hurt you Sam. We got you out. I'm right here."

"Are you real?"

Dean grits his teeth, eyes squeezing shut for a second. Of course they tortured Sam with Dean. Of course they used the one person they knew could break Sam to torture him. Made him think Dean was there. What else did they make him think? "Of course I'm real. Remember? Your hand, Sam. The scar. This is real. It's different. Yeah?"

Sam's feet are almost supporting him without conscious thought. They're getting farther away. "I remember," he murmurs, head lolling onto Dean's shoulder.

"Stay with me, Sam. Just a little longer." They've made it out of the destruction now. Walking down a street with fire behind them, small signs of destruction still lingering on either side. "We need to get out of here." He looks around, trying to figure out where the impala could be. "Where'd we park the impala Sam? Huh?" He nudges his shoulder up to make Sam's head lift. "Which way? You remember?" He hopes to distract him from his confusion.

Sam looks around, eyes open, but unfocused. Then his hand attaches to the wrist of Dean's hand that's still holding his arm over his shoulder. "Keep going. To the left ahead. Not far." He groans, eyes falling closed as he starts to fall forward.

Dean struggles to balance him before starting forward again. "Easy, easy. I'm right here. You're alright." It's a long walk to the impala. When he gets there, he gets the back door open with trouble, gently maneuvering Sam into the backseat. He pulls off his jacket, laying it over Sam. "Relax bro. I've got ya."

He gets into the driver's seat, letting out a small cry when the pain in his leg reminds him of its presence. The burning feeling quickly spreads. His head spins and for one frightening moment, he thinks he's going to pass out. He controls it though, breathing through it and only emptying what little was in his stomach. He scrambles to get in the car and has to calm down before he can get the shaking key into the ignition and get the car started. He drives with his left foot. Which really sucks. But they get away. That's all that matters right now.

* * *

><p>Sam doesn't wake up for days. Dean has to drag him into the house he chooses for them to stay in. He has to set his own leg which led to much throwing up, crying out, and eventually passing out. When he woke up he had to go through wrapping it and finding something to make crutches out of. He's proud of them at least.<p>

By day three that Sam's out, Dean starts to get worried. He moves him around to keep him from getting bed sores and whatever else hospitals have told him about at one point or another. Nutrition and fluids becomes an increasingly worrying problem though. If Sam doesn't eat, he's going to die before he gets a chance to ever wake up. But with hospitals closed down where they've settled, Sam's chances aren't looking good. He barely manages to get some water down his throat.

At the end of day three, Dean is contemplating getting to another city and hoping for an open or working hospital. Sam wakes up at 10:04 that night. Dean will always remember that time. It was the time he breathed again for the first time since the day it happened. It's also when he realized he'd get at least another day of not being alone. Of having Sam with him.

His relief is short lived when all Sam does is lay on the bed and stare at nothing. Or sit and stare at nothing at the table in the kitchen. Or do nothing as Dean feeds him little by little. He doesn't talk. He doesn't eat unless Dean feeds him. He starts to wonder if Sam will get better at all. It's dinner on the third day he's awake when he finally looks at Dean like he knows who he is.

Dean blinks when he makes eye contact with his brother for the first time in almost a week. "Sam?" When his brother doesn't look away and he sees actual recognition in his eyes, he smiles a little in relief. "Hey. You in there? You with me, Sammy?" Sam doesn't answer. But he blinks before looking away. That's all Dean holds on to for that first horrible week. Sam knows him. Sam will climb out of wherever he is in his head for him.

That's exactly what Sam does. He makes an effort to respond just a tiny bit when Dean talks to him. He goes out of his way to get Dean's attention even if it's for the most pointless thing. He reassures Dean. He doesn't talk, but they still communicate as they've always done just by knowing each other's faces. A touch. He improves more rapidly every day. Except for the nightmares. The nightmares kill them both every night.

Dean has to sleep in the same bed as Sam. Keeps him from thrashing around and hurting himself. Pulls him out of it after what seems like hours of talking to him. Trying to pull him out of whatever horrible thing his mind has sucked him into. It took some time for him to work himself out of his walls labeled 'no chick-flicks allowed'. But Sam needs more than his old self could give. He starts trying to reach out more. It's not easy.

He does little things for Sam. One day he finds books in one of the rooms of the house and shows them to him. Hopes to get him to actually do something besides sit around silently. It's starting to creep him out. He feels like he just won the lottery when he sees the familiar spark of interest light up in Sam's eyes when he shows them to him. He feels like an idiot grinning to himself for the rest of the day. Even if Sam doesn't actually pick them up.

He starts to cook too. There are a lot of foods in a freezer in the basement. Not to mention still good food in the fridge since people didn't start running from their homes to get away from the leviathans until a couple weeks ago. He prides himself in the fact that Sam starts looking interested in what dinner is going to be every night.

"Housewife."

Dean startles, turning to look at his brother and proceeds to be even more shocked when said brother actually bounces up onto the counter to sit. "Uh… what?"

The corner of Sam's mouth quirks up a little as he leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. This leaves him leaning over to watch dean cook. "You're a housewife." His voice is gritty from not being used, but it's never sounded better to Dean.

Dean barely gets out a glare instead of the smile he can feel fighting to spread across his face. Sam _talked_ to him. And he's _joking_. "You're the girl in this relationship, Sammy. Always have been."

"Jerk."

Dean does grin now. "Bitch." He continues cooking with Sam sitting on the counter next to him, just silently watching. It's not quite as creepy anymore.


	4. Chapter 3

**I was at Nashcon over the weekend seeing the boys, so I had a VERY good excuse for not updating sooner. Eight days isn't that bad, right? :)  
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**Ch. 3  
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Present.

They're almost out of the danger zone when the leviathans show up. So close. So close to being home free. And it's pure bad luck too. Nothing they did at all. Just some leviathans taking a perimeter scope. The two groups just happen to walk right into each other. No warning for either of them.

"You doin' okay, Sam?"

"Peachy." Reloaded, he turns to look over the rubble they're hiding behind. Clear so far.

"Just asking."

He pats his brother's chest when he turns back around to collapse against the makeshift wall behind them. "You'll know when I'm not."

"I'd rather know beforehand."

"Tough."

"I was afraid you'd say that."

"You notice the canister you tipped over?" Sam looks to Dean meaningfully.

"Yeah. Smelled it. You working on something?"

Sam nods. "Ready?"

"Yeah. Where's Mark?"

"About two o'clock? Ducking."

"On three."

"One."

"Two."

The 'three' is in unison. Both jump out and make a run for it, guns blazing. They may not kill leviathans, but it sure does slow them down.

Mark jumps in with them to make it around the corner. The last thing they see before they duck down again is the wide mouth and teeth that haunt the nightmares of most everyone who lives in this war. Once around the corner, they sneak into a building and go out the back. A little weaving through other buildings and through the abandoned streets before they stop inside another building gives them a few extra minutes. Hopefully.

"What do you mean hopefully?"

Sam glares at Dean. "I'm not a computer, Dean." He turns and starts pacing.

Dean sighs. "Sorry." He watches Sam pace.

"What's he doing? We need to get out of here."

Dean puts his arm out to silence Mark. "Give him a minute. He's doing his thing."

Mark looks to him. "What thing?"

Dean grins, waving his hand in a 'shooing' motion. "His planning… thing."

"Okay. Maybe four of them? It looks like it was just a routine check of perimeters. They were thrown off. No backup can come in time. We don't have any either. But we have someone who knows the place." He finally freezes, looking to Mark. "What's the most confusing way out of here?"

It takes him a second to answer, thrown off by Sam's sharp gaze on him and the way he seems so together right now. Winchester back in his element, no doubt. "Out the back door here and through a few cross sections to make it to the highway. It has a lot of intersections and ramps."

Sam nods. "You know how to zigzag while making good distance?"

Mark nods. "Absolutely."

Sam looks to Dean. "So you smelled what you spilled, right?" He grins widely.

Dean grins back. "Got it."

Mark blinks. "Got what?"

"Just follow Sam." Dean smirks, slinging his bag off his shoulder.

Sam grabs Mark, tossing something to Dean before dragging the older man out the door and pushing him forward. "Lead us out. Confusing but putting distance."

"What about Dean?"

Sam snorts. "You'll see."

Still confused but willing to listen, Mark keeps running, leading Sam farther and farther away from danger. He hopes. They're just getting to the highway when there's an explosion. Sliding to a stop, Mark spins around and ducks behind a building to watch the building they were in not too long ago fly to pieces. It sets off a chain reaction down the street. "What's so explosive around here?"

Sam grins next to him, eyes almost feral as he watches the fire spread. It gives him a whole new level of creepy. There's also pride in the look. Of Dean maybe? "The leviathans are using this area as a supply store in case they can't make it all the way back to their base. Canisters were set in alleyways to not draw attention. Dean knocked over one when running away from them."

"What is it?"

"Fuel. We've had some… experience with them using it to get through defenses. If an attack was set here, they'd have some sort of ammunition back at us. But since it was just us three, I think they were hoping to get us easily." He shoos Mark forward, starting them off again. "We have to keep moving. Dean's following." It sounds like he's trying to convince himself too. It's also the most Mark has ever heard him talk, and notices how Sam's voice really does sound wrecked. Like someone who's so world-weary they don't even talk anymore. He wouldn't be surprised. It seems Dean does most of the talking for them anyway.

Mark leads him again, noticing the farther they get, the more twitchy Sam gets. It's when they've ducked under a few ramps and crossed a big cut in the road that Sam allows them to stop. Then he looks back the way they came. After taking a few breaths to catch what he lost from running, he spares a look at Mark.

"We'll wait here." Then he paces.

It makes Mark uneasy. The longer time drags on, the more antsy Sam gets. The tension around his mouth gets harder, the tightness around his eyes gets worse, he runs his hand through his hair every once in a while. But Mark doesn't bother him. It's not his place. He wouldn't know what to do anyway. He does realize the effort it probably took to wait this long to freak out. It's obvious Sam knows when to buckle down. Now that they're out of the line of fire though, the obvious discomfort of being apart from Dean is showing. Badly.

Sam paces. He tries to stay calm. Tries to keep his jitters to a minimum. If he were alone, he'd be muttering to himself. Telling himself how pathetic this is. Tearing himself apart at how dependent he is on Dean. It's what he's done whenever Dean went out to get supplies on his own when Sam was recovering. Testing his limits. Sam never let on how much it got to him.

It seems like hours, though it's probably only minutes before Sam freezes and turns to his left, grabbing Mark's attention who watches the rest in awe. Sam's eyes close, and every line of tension suddenly drains from his body as he releases a breath neither he nor Mark probably knew he was holding. Then he waits, unmoving in his vigil.

Mark waits, confused. What does Sam know that he doesn't? The silence is eventually broken by the scuff of boots kicking up dust and gravel, and Mark realizes that somehow Sam knew Dean was coming. Then Dean comes around the side of a collapsed highway bridge, bag slung over his shoulder and sauntering over with a grin like he just won the whole world. His eyes are on Sam.

"Damn, Sammy. You shoulda been there to see that."

Sam grins so bright Mark thinks his face probably hurts. And my God, the man _actually _has a smile. "Oh I saw," he chuckles. "Quite a show you put on."

Dean gives a bow, arms out on either side, before standing and putting an arm around Sam's shoulders. He finally turns to Mark. "So… how far from here?"

Mark shakes his head at both the way Sam relaxes into Dean's arm and to how he still has no clue what just happened. "What did you do back there?"

Dean grins. "Bought us time. I left an explosive on one of the barrels before tracking you guys. Set it to blow once I was far enough away and we have the all clear while they probably try to put out the fire or think we're still around there somewhere."

Mark blinks. "You tracked us?"

Dean laughs. "I'm the best tracker you've ever seen, Mark." Dean claps Sam on the back before tugging him around to start walking. "C'mon. Let's get a move on!"

Mark shakes his head. These boys are something else. He can see why Bobby was so entranced by them. "You did good, old friend," he murmurs to himself. He follows, eventually taking up the lead again.

Dean stops him when he says they're an hour out from camp. Then turns to Sam. "Will it make you feel better if we don't tell them who we really are?"

Mark looks to Sam in confusion, then realization, seeing for the first time how much the younger brother is tense and jittery. His hands are shaking. It's clear he doesn't want to go into a new place with people he doesn't know. He's already standing way inside what should be Dean's personal space. Of course, it seems these two don't have personal space apart. They share the same one.

Sam frowns. "Why?"

Dean shrugs. "Nothing to stand up to. You can just be what you want. We won't get attention. You won't have to be strong. We can just be two more people in this crappy fight."

Sam considers it. His hands stop shaking, one coming up to link a finger into the end of Dean's jacket sleeve. "That might… help," he allows quietly.

Dean grins victoriously. It's hard to find things to help Sam these days. And this is going to be a huge thing for his brother, still struggling with something he doesn't quite understand. Something that's taken a lot of his confidence in himself away and given him a ton of fears instead. "Yeah? You can make up your own name and everything." He starts getting excited as if talking to a little kid.

Sam rolls his eyes though his mouth quirks up a little. "Who will you be? No famous names either."

Dean glares. "Well you're no fun. What should my name be then?"

Sam thinks a minute. "Campbell?"

His brother blinks. "That works I guess. What about you? We shouldn't be brothers. It would give away too much I think."

"You sure?" Mark interrupts. "Not to be rude or anything, but you guys seem to share the same space more often than most guys would."

Dean chuckles, leaning into Sam when his brother lets go of the hold he had on his sleeve in embarrassment. "Let them think what they want. After the world ends, nothing anyone else thinks matters anymore." He looks to Sam. "Sammy Colt."

Sam looks down to him in surprise before returning the grin still on Dean's face. "My name's cooler."

Dean sticks his tongue out at him. Honest to God sticks his tongue out.

"You're childish."

"You need to act younger. You're getting old as it is Sammy." Dean looks back to Mark. "Call us just by Campbell and Colt. It's not like names are important anymore."

Mark nods. "We have interesting nicknames at camp anyway. No one really knows real names anymore. No one really cares."

Dean nods, clapping a hand to Sam's arm as they turn to start walking again. "See, Sam. You'll be fine. Yeah? We'll be fine here."

Sam nods. "Fine," he murmurs softly to himself. His finger attaches itself back to Dean's sleeve. He'll need a little help for this.

"Mark, go on up ahead. We'll be following. We just need a while."

Mark nods. "No problem."

Dean stops with a confused Sam and waits until Mark is too far away to possibly hear anything. Then he shoves back the mental wall labeled 'no chick-flick moments', the wall that's so thin now it barely even exists, and pulls his arm away to get Sam's finger off his sleeve but takes Sam's hand to get his attention. "Hey. You know how this goes. You're turn to start."

Sam is silent for a while, hand twitching in Dean's almost as if he wants to pull away.

"I'm not letting go until we get through this. It's _really_ awkward but it keeps you grounded. Now come on. The question of the day is…"

Sam bites his lip before answering. "What if they know?"

Dean nods, understanding. "So what if they do? You hear what Mark said about you? You aren't known as the guy who started the apocalypse anymore. You're the one who saved the world. Who took on the _devil_ and _won_. They won't hate you Sam."

He continues on to the next one. "What if they see?"

Dean understands. "Things have happened to you. It doesn't matter what they see or what they say_ about_ what they see. They'll never understand what you're going through. They'll never understand what you do to get through it. They don't need to understand. So what if they see what you're like now? Only _I_ know how far you've come. _I'm_ the only one that matters when it comes to knowing who you are. Right?"

Sam nods. "Right." His voice is quiet, but the conviction is still evident in his voice.

Dean grins. "Damn straight." He nudges his shoulder into Sam's. "What else?"

Sam goes back to biting his lip.

"Sam. Every day is a new question…"

"I will find the answer," he murmurs back after a few seconds of silence. Then adds, "with your help," ruefully.

"When did that become a permanent fixture to that sentence?" Dean asks, amused.

"Since I realized it's true."

Dean makes a contemplative face to himself. The day it isn't true, Sam will be himself again. And Dean will be happier than he's been in what seems like a very long time. "What's next, Sam," he asks again.

Sam lets out a sound that is suspiciously close to a wine.

"Spit it out, you big baby. I'm tired of holding your hand."

Sam glares ahead before finally opening his mouth. It takes him a second to get his voice to come out. "What will they think about…?"

"Us?" Dean finishes. Then snorts. "I told Mark the truth, you know. I don't give a crap to what people think. We aren't like other people. Just like we've figured that out over the years, genius. I don't care what they think or what they say about us. We're just us. You and me. Like it or not. So stop trying to put us in with other people. Sure, like Mark said, we're more touchy feely than others. I've be trained by you."

Sam snorts.

"But who cares? And maybe most people like us wouldn't be able to stick with each other with all of our issues and problems. But I'm right here. And you're right here. And who cares who else is around us? Alright? I don't know about you, but I'm tired of trying to live up to everyone's expectations."

Sam doesn't answer for a while. The walk is silent, with only Mark's lone figure in front of them to keep them headed in the right direction. Then he looks over to Dean. "Okay."

Dean looks back. "Okay?"

Sam nods. "Okay. Just us."

Dean blinks before grinning, turning back ahead as Sam does. He gets it. Sam doesn't care what anyone else thinks either. He's ready to try and integrate himself back into society. Well… the society that's around now. He doesn't even notice when his hand stay's in Sam's for a few extra minutes. As he said earlier, Sam trained him.

When he does notice, he shakes it away with a scowl. "Okay. Chick-flick is one thing, but this has gotten way too girly for my taste."

Sam chuckles. "Was waitin' for you to notice."

Dean nudges him with his shoulder. "Shut up. How's your voice?"

"Hurts. Don't think it'll go back to like it was. Don't use it enough."

"Makes you sound scary," Dean teases.

Sam grins a little. "Yeah."

"You can be the strong silent type. I'll talk for you."

Sam snorts. "You already do."

Dean shoves him again, laughing when Sam sends him his bitch face.


	5. Chapter 4

**Thanks for the reviews guys. I love hearing your feedback. This is my first long story about the boys, and i like knowing what you think. The flashbacks will eventually taper off, but i kind of like having them in between like this, which is why i didn't start the story way back there first.**

**Enjoy. :)  
><strong>

**Ch. 4**

_Four and a half months ago. Somewhere in the mountains in Tennessee._

They haven't left the small mountain house that Dean stopped at when running from the leviathans. Dean's hoping it's insignificant enough that it'll be left alone. Sam's doing better. After Dean found him some books to read, Sam does that a lot now. While Dean's out making sure the impala wasn't damaged by the last storm, or bothered by the wildlife, Sam sits by and reads. When Dean's making dinner, Sam sits on the counter next to him like the first day he teased him again, or at the table close by, and reads.

Sam isn't ever very far away. And Dean doesn't mind. It's just them out here after all. The company is nice. He's given up talking to fill the silence. He likes it now. Companionship at its purest, he thinks in 'girly' terms. Just him and Sam sitting in the same room is alright with him now. No need to talk. Very often, anyway. They have the radio on a lot.

But it's more than that. He feels content with the knowledge that Sam is near him. Where he can see him. Safe. And Sam wants to be near him too. Maybe it keeps him from freaking out. Keeps him grounded or something. Dean doesn't care. They've never gotten along so well before. He feels almost domesticated when he thinks about how much he cooks with their provisions from the basement and how much they lounge around since there isn't much to do anyway.

He also finds himself drawn towards Sam more often. Going out of his way to make contact. He knows Sam doesn't mean to do it, but he's training Dean. To take care of him the way he is now. He needs touch every once in a while. To keep himself in the present. Keep his mind from wandering to where it's dangerous. He's teaching Dean to reach out and touch him randomly throughout the day.

Dean doesn't realize it until he finds himself laying on the couch with his feet in Sam's lap, Sam's book resting on the previously mentioned feet. They haven't sat like this since Sam was sixteen, studying for a test while Dean watched TV and did his best to distract him, as an older brother should, by wiggling his feet. He does so now, grinning when Sam looks over and sends his patented 'bitch face' his way. He grins.

Sam almost smiles in reply. Almost. The affection is seen in his eyes anyway.

Dean takes that as a win.

It became so integrated into himself after that, he found himself reaching out during the day. And sometimes it wasn't just to ground Sam. It was to ground _himself_. A hand on the arm. Knees resting together. Fingers playing with the ends of Sam's insanely long hair when his arm was on the back of the couch. It just became a natural occurrence. Sam needed someone to keep him grounded. Dean was only too glad to be able to be that person.

Sam only mentions it once. After driving out to a clearing miles away from where they're staying to do what they used to. Sit on the hood of the impala and stare at the sky. They sit so close they're touching from shoulder to foot. Sam doesn't look at him as he murmurs, "Thanks." Then gets another drink of his soda. He stays away from beer. It makes the confusion worse.

"No problem Sammy." He doesn't need to ask what he's thanking him for. Never needs to ask about much anymore. They've never been as attuned to each other as they are now. They go back home when the sun starts to rise. Sam's healing keeps going. Dean finds little things to help him out. One thing he vows to keep doing is what he thinks of after waking Sam up from a nightmare one night.

"Sorry for waking you," Sam murmurs miserably.

"No need to be sorry, bro." They lay awake until the room starts getting lighter.

"Sometimes I hate being here another day."

Dean's breath stops with the quiet admission. "Don't say that, Sam."

"I feel like I'm just falling apart. I can't sleep without nightmares anymore, I get visions of hell, even if I don't see Lucifer sitting around anywhere or hear him talk outside of the memories. I lose sense of reality. It's a struggle even to remember the answers to things I used to know." It's the most Sam's talked in a long time.

Dean holds Sam tighter, scared of the thought of losing him. The only thing keeping him from being alone on this earth. The only person he's never been able to live without. Even if he had a hundred people around him, without Sam he'd still be alone. "You'll get through this. Soon you'll be back to your normal self. You'll be a freak again, but without the hell memories haunting you."

Sam snorts softly.

Dean grins to himself. "Every day is a new question. Even_ I_ don't know the answer all the time. But you _will_ find the answer. Okay?"

It's quiet for a second. Then, "Okay. Thanks Dean."

Dean lets a small smile form on his face.

The first day the old Sam resurfaces again after the housewife jibe, it's the guilty side of Sam. The side that always finds a way to bring up something that makes him feel guilty and have to talk about it before he lets it go. Dean's unwrapping his leg to test it out as they sit on the porch when Sam looks over to him and murmurs, "I'm sorry."

Dean immediately drops what he's doing and looks to Sam with a serious glare. "No. We are not getting into that. Especially since we both know that there isn't any way this is your fault. You were out. Like, 'I thought you were dying' out. It's fine."

"'M still sorry." He shrugs.

Dean glares. "Well don't be. Now help me up sasquatch." He pushes Sam up from the porch steps, grabbing onto his arm after he's standing to pull himself up. As Sam puts a hand to his shoulder to steady him, he takes a breath. It's been four weeks. His leg should be healed by now. He hasn't touched it to the ground since the third day he had it wrapped. A stupid step down to reach for something. It hurt enough to keep him from doing it since.

"You wanna wait a few more days?" Sam's voice is softly concerned.

"No. I'm fine." He puts is foot down in defiance, slowly putting weight on it. There's a twinge, but nothing he can't handle. He nods to himself. "It'll be fine." He takes a step, wincing.

Sam hasn't let go of his arm. "Maybe you should keep it wrapped. Give it some help to stay stable."

Dean thinks about it. "Maybe. It'd be smart, huh?"

Sam nods. "Double breaks aren't good."

Dean snorts. "You're telling me." He turns to limp the two steps to the stairs. He lets out a breath as he lowers himself to sit. He's silent for a minute. "I really got messed up this time, Sammy."

Sam frowns in worry at the sound of defeat in Dean's voice. "No." He sits next to him. "You'll heal and be back to normal in no time. You'll see."

Dean looks at the ground. "The leviathans are still out there. And the two best hunters are crippled."

Sam's face falls. "Don't give up." His voice cracks on the last word.

Dean looks up in alarm.

Sam shakes his head. "Don't give up, Dean. I need you… I need you to not give up. It's the only thing keeping me from giving up too. Okay? Every day is a question, right? You always tell me I'll find the answer. You have to believe it too, Dean. We both need to believe that if we're going to keep from giving up."

Dean looks down at his leg. Then nods. "You got it."

Sam lets out a breath. "Okay." He reaches out to take the wrapping that has held Dean's leg together for the past weeks. He carefully maneuvers Dean's leg out straight and goes to work. He's silent until he's done, then looks up at Dean, a hand still on his leg. "I won't give up if you won't. Deal?"

Dean looks at him, smiling softly. "Alright. Deal."

Sam smiles back. "Okay." He stands, helping Dean to his feet and walking him into the house. "Use the crutches for another week."

"Aw, c'mon!"

"Dean…"

A sigh. "I hate you."

"'Course you do."

"I really do."

"Dinner?"

"Make it yourself, bitch."

Sam sighs. "What do _you_ want for dinner?"

Dean looks up at him as he sits on the couch. "Have fun with it." He's actually interested to see Sam's cooking skills. It's very rare that they ever cooked anything big for themselves back then. And since things changed, only Dean has cooked.

Sam rolls his eyes. "No complaining."

Dean shrugs. "You've never complained about _my_ cooking. I won't complain about yours." The smile he gets in return makes his little second of being nice worth it.

* * *

><p>The electric goes out two days later. From the TV, the movement of the leviathans across the continent is tracked until the cable goes out right before the electric. They're taking over everything that needs to be monitored like dams and waste plants so the world doesn't blow up. But they're taking over. Cities are being destroyed. Dean's actually glad the power goes out. He's tired of seeing that look on Sam's face as he sees the world as they know it disappearing.<p>

They make a fireplace in the living room and one in their bedroom, using rocks and dirt around the house, even making a chimney for each so they don't die of smoke inhalation. Sam scowled when Dean joked about that. Their food supply is also practically gone. Dean starts to wonder whether to take Sam with him when he gets more down in the town, or to leave him here. He decides to ask Sam what he'll be more comfortable with.

"Hey. We need food."

Sam stiffens in his chair. Then lowers the book he's reading. Dean thinks it's the last one of those too. "I know."

"You gonna be alright coming with me?"

Sam sighs, setting the book on the table. "Honestly? I don't know. But we need to find out. I'm tired of not being sure of myself."

Dean nods. "Okay. We'll go tomorrow. Bright and early."

Sam nods, and that's that. The house is silent until they get into bed that night. They still don't talk much, not really needing to, but Sam looks to Dean when he lays down. "I know you hate when I ask these questions, so I'll be fair and only ask once. Do you ever get tired of having to take care of me? Not even being able to sleep by yourself anymore? Losing sleep because of me?"

Dean rolls to his side, propping his head on his hand with a sigh. "And I'll only answer this once," he says softly. "I don't mind. I really don't. You're my brother, Sam. I've always taken care of you. And I don't mind sharing a bed. Better being here to make the nightmares go away rather than having to get out of another bed or room to walk over here. You lose sleep over nightmares, I lose it to pull you out of them. I honestly have the better deal here."

Sam nods once, looking up at Dean. "Okay."

One side of Dean's mouth quirks up. "Go to sleep, Francis." He lays down, not turning away just for the sake of Sam not thinking he's pulling a wall up. He feels the room colder than before, noticing their fire is a little low. He doesn't feel like getting out of bed. He scoots more under the covers, and the slightest bit closer to Sam. "Besides," he mutters, "you're warm."

Sam's low chuckle sounds as close to genuinely happy and relaxed as Dean has heard him in a very long time.


	6. Chapter 5

**Figured I'd update before I go to bed. Longer chapter to kind of make up for the wait. Thanks for reading. :)  
><strong>

**Ch. 5**

Present.

They've fenced in the camp quite spectacularly, Dean observes. Wooden and stone outposts (recycled buildings or hand built) between metal fencing with both razor wire and barbed wire on top. Looking closer, he even sees it weaved into the fence. He feels a little respect for these people. They don't take a chance on anything.

Sam walks next to him, his walls up in full force. His face is hard, eyes steely. He looks more tightly drawn than when he and Dean walked into the camp to meet Mark, Dean notices. Sam looks down at him, jaw clenching as he makes himself walk a respectable distance from Dean. He stands tall. He's barricaded himself up to keep people from wanting to talk to him.

Dean can see it. He also knows that the wall wouldn't do anything to keep him out. Sam always leaves a gap in it for him. He moves over, walking closer to Sam since he knows Sam's not going to, even though he wants to. They share a look.

Sam finally speaks. His voice is low, deeper than usual. A gravely warning that he's not in the mood to be nice. Dean's the exception. "I'm alright, Dean."

Dean shrugs. "Didn't say you weren't." He steps even closer.

A split second, a tiny spark of affection filled annoyance in his eyes before he looks away. His hand rests on the handle of his blade at his side. Just something he does for reassurance. He doesn't move away from Dean.

Mark walks up, waving to a man behind the fence line. Then pulls out a small knife. He shows the man behind the fence he isn't a leviathan by cutting into his arm and letting the red of his blood show. No black goo. He jerks his head to Sam and Dean behind him. "Have some new recruits." He turns to them. "You mind showing him?"

Dean steps forward first, pulling his smaller pocket knife out of his back pocket and sliding the blade cleanly over his arm. He lets the blood slide down his arm for a bit to show the man, then turns to Sam. He locks eyes with him, judging if Sam is okay with this. Sure, they've trained and hurt each other getting back in shape, but that was in the security of their little clearing around their house.

Sam looks back, stepping forward and handing his arm over without hesitation. He doesn't even flinch as the blade cuts into his arm, just looks to the man behind the fence and holds it out to show him.

If he were honest with himself, the guard would say that these two made him nervous. The way they look like a force within themselves, even though they haven't even done anything. The shorter one (though he's definitely a decent height too) seems relaxed. Even in a new place, he seems like he's the center of the three men. Could take anything.

The tall one gets to him more, though. The way he just stands behind the shoulder of the other, his presence almost engulfing the other two in his silence. He radiates restrained power. And possibly… instability? His piercing eyes don't stay trained on anything for long.

They remind him, he thinks suddenly, of carnivorous flowers. They're both good looking. Anyone could see that. The short one is more pretty than the other, but even then, he looks just as solid and dangerous as the taller one. They'd draw people in, he thinks to himself, by their looks that portray them as nice people. Then they'd let their danger show and take them out. They're already showing their danger now though. He can see there aren't any other men like these in this camp.

He reluctantly nods when he sees their clean blood, signaling for the two men at the lock of the gate to let them in.

Mark nods to him, leading the way in. The two new recruits don't even acknowledge the others around the gate.

The guard keeps watching, blinking in surprise when a smile way too content for these times spreads across the shorter one's face as he looks up at his companion. The taller one doesn't smile, though he tilts his head, and walks a little closer to him. A look down shows his hand resting on a decently long knife strapped to his side, an intricate sheath hiding the blade.

He just let those two into this camp, and he has no idea whether he should be regretting that or not.

* * *

><p>"You guys can sure play up the hostile card."<p>

Dean chuckles. "Sam's defense mechanism. He can seem pretty scary." He smiles up at Sam, taking the 'of course I can' from the tilt of his head before he steps closer as they walk.

Mark nods to himself. "I think you really made Steel nervous."

Dean looks to him. "How many people do you have in this camp? Memorizing names is going to be a challenge."

Mark laughs. "We have a good number. Haven't looked at the census sheet in a while. But don't worry, we have groups. You just need to know your group and the lead guards if you want. And don't worry, I'll take care of you guys. We have an empty cabin I'll take you to where you guys will stay. It's a little bit separated from the rest of the camp. That's why no one's really claimed it. We're big on 'safety in numbers' here."

Dean nods. "Sounds perfect. Me and Sam have never needed numbers."

Sam quirks a smile, though it doesn't look happy like Dean's did earlier. It looks amused, sure, but with his emotional walls up, everything he does is darker. It reminds Dean of when Sam didn't have his soul. It'd make him nervous if he didn't know how much it's what Sam's actually _trying_ to do. Look like he doesn't care.

Sam's smile makes Mark shiver, who shakes his head. "Of course not." It looks like he won't have to tell the men to keep their distance from these two. Sam will communicate that perfectly without words. "Right now we're headed to the meeting building. An emptied store. One big room. It's where we make our plans and organize things. They should be meeting in there today to take another census since more recruits should have been brought in."

"More recruits?" Dean asks.

"Like how I brought you two. We go out and see who wants to help every few weeks. It's usually squad leaders that are sent out. Everyone's supposed to be back today." He leads them up to the one of the biggest buildings in the camp, opening the door and motioning them inside. They scan the place as they walk in.

There are four separate groups of people, all off in their own corner of the building. The middle is left open for a few people at tables with papers and drawing boards lined up with notes and drawings on them. There are piles of supplies being stacked against the walls between all of the groups, acting as barriers to separate them, and those seem to get recorded too. It's a well-oiled machine, Dean notices with approval.

Sam leans over, murmuring, "These people might stand a chance."

Dean nods. "Let's see what all they know."

Mark turns to him. "They'll tell the new recruits everything in a bit. Let's just get you guys accounted for."

Dean looks around, already noticing looks their way. He knows the picture they make. Sam and his ability to tower over most people just by _being,_ even if they aren't that much shorter, and sometimes even the taller. And there's Dean, features that are both sharp and friendly at the same time right now. He rarely has to be the one that looks dangerous now, letting that be Sam's forte. One of them has to be nice to communicate with people.

Also, they haven't really put any effort in concealing what they're packing. Dean with his guns on his sides, and Sam with his knife. Sam has a gun at his back too, but he doesn't use it. The knife gives him the control he needs. He uses it as an extension of his own body. Something he can feel, rather than a gun. Stability is important with Sam these days.

Looking around, Dean notices it's different from when they walked into the camp they met Mark in. Instead of looking away, most of them keep looking. Trying not to look intimidated. Dean gives them credit for it. These people know what it'll take to take down the leviathans. Looking danger in the eye is always a good trait to have. Dean looks to Sam again as they make it to the middle of the room.

Sam looks down, expression flat, but Dean sees the way he's been evaluating everyone too. "They're afraid. But they're determined to ignore it," he decides.

Dean nods.

Mark turns to them. "You're quiet conversations that none of us can hear are making people more nervous," he says, rolling his eyes. "It would make me uncomfortable too."

Dean snorts, a small grin spreading across his face. "Good. Then everyone understands us." He looks back to Sam. "Right, Sammy?"

One side of Sam's mouth quirks up.

The person they walk up to at the table looks up at their approach, eyes guarded before looking to Mark. "These your people?"

Mark nods. "The only ones."

"You sure know how to pick 'em," he mutters so only Mark can hear.

Sam reads his lips, snorting almost silently as he watches Mark's mouth twitch up a little in amusement.

Dean looks to him in question.

Sam shakes his head a tiny bit.

Dean rolls his eyes.

Sam touches him with his shoulder lightly. A barely there tap. _I'll tell you later_.

"Names?"

"Campbell and Colt," Dean answers.

The guy writes the names down. "You have your own weapons?"

Dean lays out his guns, pulling out his multiple blades and watching Sam's smirk grow with each one he sets down. When Dean sees the look on the face of the guy sitting at the table, he shrugs. "When it's just you and one other person out there, it's safe to have everything with you." He grins.

The man nods, eyes still wide as he makes some marks on the paper. Then looks nervously up at Sam. "You?"

Sam reaches to his back, pulling out his gun and moving his jacket back to show his knife on his side as he reaches down to pull a slightly smaller one from under his jeans.

Dean nods in approval. "He travels light. Most of the others are in our bags."

He thinks back to when they had to empty the trunk of the Impala. How horrible it was deciding what they could carry. Sam only had a few special weapons. A few knives Dean gave him and his two favorite guns, though Dean doesn't think he's touched them other than to clean them since before the leviathan fire.

The man at the table looks between the two. "We just like to know what everyone has here. No specifics. Just marking down that you have your own knives and guns. Keeps us from passing out ours to people who don't need them."

Dean nods. "This is your camp, I'm not questioning. It's fine."

Mark turns to them. "You guys can go with squad four. That corner over there." He nods to one of the corners of the room. "I'm the leader of that squad, so don't worry, I'll make sure everyone leaves you alone."

Dean nods. "Thanks Mark."

"Not much more to do today. Just have to go around and say names, pass out the packet of maps and information, and then I'll take you guys to your cabin. Most of them hold at least five guys. But that cabin is small, plus I'll just go ahead and assume it'd be best if it were just you two."

Dean nods. "You assume right."

Sam stands at his shoulder, eyes moving over the men in their squad. An average bunch. Of course, it's hard to tell by just looking at them. Skill is where it counts. His head flinches to the right when he hears someone step up to him, relaxing when he sees someone nervously eyeing him as he hands a packet to Dean before moving on to the rest of their group.

"Easy, Sam." Dean lets his arm touch his brother's as he skims the packet. He holds it out to the side so Sam can read over his shoulder.

"Maps. Detailed."

Dean nods. "Camp, land around camp, and what they know of where leviathans are posted. I'm impressed."

"Recons."

Dean nods.

Sam reaches over to point out something on the next page. "Their info on Dick is low."

Dean nods. "We'll help them with that sometime. I'll talk with Mark."

Sam tenses when someone walks by him, hand gripping the handle of his knife.

Dean looks up at him over his shoulder. "Relax, Sam. It's safe here. No one's going to hurt us."

Sam shrugs one shoulder a little.

Dean turns, patting him on his chest over his heart, before looking for Mark. "I'll see if we can settle down a little early. Okay?" He can see Sam shutting down. Sentences shortening before totally going silent.

Sam nods. He follows Dean, right at his shoulder, while he looks for Mark. When they find him, he's going over something with the guy from the front table.

He looks up when they approach. "Hey guys. One of our scouts hasn't come back yet. We're postponing the meeting until tomorrow to see if they make it." His expression says the words he doesn't. That if the missing person doesn't show up, it's possible they never will.

Dean nods once. "So it's alright if we settle for the night?"

Mark nods. "I'll take you guys to your cabin." He hands the papers back to the guy from the table. "Thanks Sketch. You do good work." He sends him off before motioning for Sam and Dean to follow him. "That's Sketch. We call him that because he makes all of these maps for us. And keeps track of a whole lot."

Sam's eyebrows raise a little.

Dean notices, voicing the thought his brother won't say. "Impressive."

Mark chuckles. "He's been great."

"I've noticed you guys don't know a few things about the leviathans that we do."

Mark nods. "I'm sure we don't. I was thinking about bringing you guys up at the meeting tomorrow to catch everyone up on what you know. They were after you in the beginning after all. I'm sure you two are still up on their hit list."

Dean nods. "You have no idea."

Mark motions ahead to a small cabin, set away from the rest. "Here it is. It's got one bedroom, a bathroom, and the front area that's kitchen and living space. Not much furniture, but we want it to be more like an empty home rather than an army bunker."

Dean chuckles. "Understandable. Since most of you guys have been here a while."

Mark nods. "They're our homes. Like a bunch of frat houses."

Dean laughs. "I'm sure. Anyone get out of line?"

Mark rolls his eyes. "Very few, but we have a night every once in a while that gets rowdy. Usually after a successful recon or supply run."

They walk into the cabin, Dean and Sam stepping in silently out of habit. They look the place over, Dean nodding in approval when he sees he'll be able to push the beds together to make sure Sam doesn't have nightmares. "Looks great Mark. Thanks."

Mark shrugs. "No problem guys. I should be thanking you for helping us. You guys will be a good asset. And I know how much you could be avoiding this whole thing."

"We should help," Sam answers lowly, eyes moving over the kitchen area with interest.

Dean nods. "We might still have some crap to get together, but we should help clean up this mess. It's mostly our fault anyway."

Mark shakes his head, but doesn't argue. Knows it won't do any good. "Sleep well guys. The meeting is tomorrow at noon. Breakfast is always from eight to nine, lunch will be before and during the meeting. Dinner is always at five to six."

Dean nods. "Thanks Mark."

He leaves, shutting the door behind him with a click.

Dean looks to Sam. "Let's see how you do sleeping in a new place. It'd be a good idea to try and go to bed early in case it doesn't work."

Sam's mouth quirks up in a half grin as he walks with Dean into the bedroom and sets his bag down on the table against the wall by the door. "Okay."

They get ready for bed silently, both pushing the two beds together before getting in. They face each other, Sam linking a finger in the collar of Dean's shirt for reassurance before he closes his eyes.

"I'm right here, Sam."

He falls asleep, content with that knowledge.


	7. Chapter 6

**So... i had the next chapter, but no this one. *shrugs* I can't figure my mind out. Anyway, this one took insanely long because of homework so sorry for the wait. But here it is. The next chapter will be up super soon to make up for the wait for this one.  
><strong>

**Ch. 6  
><strong>

Four months, three weeks ago. Still in the cabin.

Sam hasn't stepped out of the clearing they've been living in. Dean has. Though he's never left Sam's sight. He'd walk around, setting up alarms in case someone comes by. Sets up traps for wildlife. It's why they haven't left for food until now. Now though, Sam looks at the separation of dirt to gravel, hesitant to take a step away from what's comfortable.

Dean stands right next to him, chewing his lip. "You could stay here?"

That sounds even more terrifying to Sam. He shakes his head. "No. I'll… I'll be fine." He links his finger in Dean's jacket sleeve.

Dean looks down to his arm in surprise. "You sure? I don't want you going all Rain man on me."

Sam bites his lip, letting go of Dean's sleeve. "Sorry. 'M fine."

Dean studies his brother. "You know you can tell me you're not, right?

Sam is silent for a second. Then, "What was I like?"

"When?"

"When I was out of it. The first thing I remember of here is you washing the dishes one night. You kept looking over your shoulder at me. Why?"

Dean swallows, nodding as he looks away. "That was the first day you actually looked at me like you were seeing me."

Sam tilts his head.

"You were almost comatose," Dean tells, shrugging. "I had to feed you, move you… uhh…" He grimaces.

Sam snorts. "You raised me, Dean."

Dean shrugs. "Still awkward. But anyway, it wasn't good. Like the lights were on but nobody was home. You looked, but you didn't see. Not until that night. I had to keep checking to make sure I wasn't kidding myself."

Sam nods to himself.

Dean watches him. "Why?"

Sam shakes his head. "Nothing."

Dean doesn't push him. Much. "What do you remember from that time?"

"Not now, Dean," Sam murmurs.

It takes him a few seconds, but Dean finally nods, nudging Sam with his shoulder. "C'mon, man. We need to go get supplies. What do you need?"

Sam frowns. "Uhh… I'm not picky."

Dean shakes his head, scratching the back of his neck. A nervous tick Sam recognizes. "I mean, what do you need to feel comfortable? If you need to do what you were doing earlier…"

Sam blinks.

Dean shrugs. "I've noticed contact helps. So if you need to hold onto me… it's fine. You can."

Sam looks down for a second before looking back to Dean. His hand hesitantly reaches out to fist in the sleeve of Dean's jacket. "Thanks." His voice is barely a whisper.

Dean nods once. "I'm here, Sam. I'm real. It's fine. Alright?"

Sam steps closer, knuckles white as he grips Dean's sleeve. "Yeah."

"Every day is a new question…"

"I will find the answer," Sam finishes in a whisper.

Dean grins. "Exactly. C'mon. I want some new food." He starts walking, Sam right at his shoulder with a small grin.

They walk down through the woods to the small town in case they have to duck somewhere and get away from someone who would recognize them. They aren't sure how many leviathans are around here. They don't really want to take any chances.

The town is empty. The brothers look around at the abandoned place in silence. There's no sign of destruction here though. It's as if they left in a hurry, but as a precaution rather than panic. Quick enough to avoid being snuffed out by the creatures. A lot of the cars are gone. Store lights are still on. The only way this place is still running is because the leviathans haven't come through. And if they have, the left silently because there is no one here.

"Well… at least we won't have to pay for anything."

Sam looks down at Dean, eyes full of despair.

"No." He shakes his head. "This isn't our fault, Sam. These monsters are more than anyone has been able to handle. It isn't just us. Why do you think they haven't been stopped yet?" He puts a hand to Sam's shoulder. "None of this is your fault."

Sam doesn't totally agree, but he lets it go.

Dean hotwires a car, driving it from store to store as they pick up any food they think they need. Or want. They pick up batteries for flashlights, more ammo, a few guns, and other miscellaneous supplies. Sam has to let go of Dean's sleeve of course, but he doesn't go far. Until Dean does.

He looks up after filling a cart with groups of water bottles, heart stuttering in his chest to almost a stop when he sees the space his brother was recently occupying, completely empty. "Dean?" His voice is a choked plea.

"See," Lucifer taunts, suddenly at his side. "I told you it wasn't real. You're all alone here. There is no Dean."

Sam is blindsided by the reappearance of Lucifer. He's been gone since the hit in his head. And his dreams. But now he's back. He looks down at his hand, knowing the fading scar won't help him anymore.

"No use trying, right?"

Sam grits his teeth. "Shut up." He leaves the cart of water, sprinting down the aisle to look around for his brother. "Dean?"

"He isn't real, Sam. None of it has been. I could take any of it away at any second. Even your precious big brother."

Sam starts hyperventilating. "Dean!" His voice borders on a panicked scream. As much of a scream as his low and gritty voice can manage. His eyes restlessly scan the aisles as he jogs down the length of the empty store. "_Dean!_" Tears start blurring his vision. He _can't_ still be in hell. He _can't _still be at the mercy of Lucifer. He just _can't_.

He suddenly freezes, heart tripping over itself when he suddenly hears an answering voice. One syllable. His name, he recognizes the second time. "Dean!" He books it towards the other end of the store.

His brother walks around the end of an aisle, chest heaving as if he had been running too. "Sammy." Even though he doesn't yell, Sam can still hear it.

He barely slows as he reaches his brother, colliding with him almost violently. The only thing keeping Dean from falling backwards from the impact is Sam's arms closing tightly around him. "Dean." It's a desperate, choked plea.

Dean grips him back, just as tight. "I'm sorry, Sam. I'm sorry. I forgot. I was so stupid and I forgot. Just went to the back storage to see if they have anything we might need there. I shouldn't have left. I'm sorry."

Sam holds tightly on to him, holding back the sobs that want to break free. He tucks his face into his brother's neck. "It's okay," he whispers. "I shouldn't need you all the time."

Dean tightens his hold even more, shaking his head a bit. "It's alright Sam. It's not your fault. Really. It was me. I was stupid." They stand like that for a long time before Dean finally loosens up and Sam follows. His hand doesn't leave where it's clenched in Dean's sleeve again. "You alright?"

Sam's eyes move over his brother, taking in every detail. Everything so perfectly… Dean. The devil couldn't fake this. Not his brother. Sam would be able to tell the difference. "Fine. 'M sorry."

Dean pats his arm, eyes apologetic. "I promise to think before I move, okay?"

Sam nods once.

Dean nods back. "Okay. C'mon. Let's go back and get the water."

Sam doesn't let go of Dean's sleeve again. Dean doesn't make him.

By the time they're done, they have an SUV filled with everything. Sam had to let go of Dean's sleeve to pack the car, but now he's standing chest to shoulder with him again.

Dean looks to Sam with a grin.

Sam rolls his eyes.

When they get in the car, Sam sits inches away from Dean's side, hand clenched around Dean's sleeve again. He doesn't relax until they're back at the cabin. When they drive into the clearing, he lets out a breath.

"Home sweet home," Dean breathes.

Sam nods his agreement.

They unload the car, Sam letting Dean farther away, but still keeping him in hearing distance. Dean keeps up a constant stream of talk, meaningless and petty most of the time, but it keeps Sam sane. When they're done, Dean collapses on the couch.

"C'mon, Sam. Let's take a nap. I'm exhausted and I'm sure you are too after that panic attack back there."

Sam hangs his head sheepishly.

Dean rolls his eyes. "No need to worry about it anymore. I know you don't like me being out of your sight. I was stupid. Now come lay down. The bags under your eyes are growing."

Sam sticks his tongue out.

Dean grins. "Bitch."

Sam gives him a look that doesn't need any words. _Jerk._

Dean moves his feet so Sam can lay down, head on the opposite arm rest. He lays his legs right on top of Sam's. A sense of protection. Heat and weight to let Sam know Dean is right there. Dean watches his brother's eyes close from his end of the couch. It's huge. Something Sam had commented on loving sometime within the first week he was talking. Just a tiny little comment he used to let Dean know he was still trying to pull himself from his silence.

"Thank you."

Dean smiles at the quiet words. Again, Sam letting him know that he was still fully there mentally. Though Dean knows he's had a little drawback today. He'll be quiet for a while. But Dean's gotten used to that. "No problem, Sammy."

He waits until Sam is breathing evenly and deeply before letting his eyes close too. Hopefully his brother gets a break today and actually gets a few hours of sleep.

* * *

><p>Four months, one week ago.<p>

Dean's tired of the screaming. Tired of the torture his brother has to go through every night in his dreams because of the collapsed wall. He just doesn't know what to do about it. He's wiping the sweat-soaked strands of hair from his brother's forehead one night after a particularly bad night when he gets an idea.

"What if I found a spell?"

Sam's eyes snap open. "You hate using magic."

Dean sighs. "I don't know what else to do, Sammy. Neither of us are sleeping, you're going to drop dead if you don't get more sleep, and I can't take the sound of your screaming anymore. I have to make it stop. What if I found a spell?"

Sam eyes him sadly. "I don't know of one…"

"We'll go see if there's a library or something in the town down there. I'll find every book of spells I can get my hands on."

Sam's eyes, looking so young at the moment, lock onto Dean's. "I'd do it," he murmurs.

Dean lets out a sigh. "That's it then. I _will_ find something to help you."

Sam doesn't reply. His face doesn't show belief or doubt. Just hope.

Dean gets up. "You try to sleep. Okay? I won't be long. I promise."

They've been trying to slowly get Sam used to the idea of Dean being gone for little periods of time. Easing him out of a crippling weakness that could get them killed when they decide to leave their cabin. From what Dean knows, it's been okay. They've gotten it up to a couple hours. It won't take him that long to grab the books he might need.

Sam just watches him leave the bedroom, curling up in the warm spot his brother leaves behind. He pulls most of the covers over himself. It always seems colder when Dean's not around. And he knows he won't be getting any sleep while his brother is gone. He doesn't tell Dean how agitated he is when he's gone. How he barely keeps himself from going crazy. Tonight though… he's exhausted. Instead of his usual pacing, he just stays curled up in the bed, telling himself over and over his brother is real and he'll be back soon.

* * *

><p>The impala peels out of their clearing, going down to the mountain to the small town at the bottom at what should be a frightening speed. But not to Dean. He knows his baby. It's no time before he's skidding to a stop in front of a library. Research has always been Sam's thing, so it takes him a while to figure out exactly where he should be looking. Eventually, he's letting out a triumphant 'ah ha!' and loading his arms with books.<p>

It takes him five trips to get them all to the car, throwing them in the trunk with less care than he probably should use for books as old as these. But he's in a hurry. He's barely been gone forty five minutes before he's pulling up in front of their cabin. He grabs an armful of the books and heads inside, sighing in relief when he walks into the bedroom to see Sam giving him a reassuring smile.

"You alright?"

Sam nods.

"Okay. I found a ton of books. I'll bring them in and we can get to looking." He sets his first armload on the bed. "Here you go. Get to your geeky self and research." He grins when Sam rolls his eyes, glad his brother was okay while he was gone. After unloading the car, he takes his own armload and sits against the headboard next to Sam. He bumps his foot against his brother's. Sam bumps back. They're silent as they read.


	8. Chapter 7

**This one's up soon as promised. :) No gauruntees about time after this. School takes time and so does work but I will be writing. I plan to finish this. I'm not sure how yet, but that's part of the fun.  
><strong>

**Ch. 7**

Present.

Dean wakes only a couple hours after falling asleep. It only takes him a split second to figure out why. The screaming coming from his brother is something he had never wanted to hear again. It's such an agonizing sound. Something he only ever hears from Sam when he's dreaming of his time in the cage. It's what brought up the search for something that would stop the nightmares. The spell that currently isn't working.

"Sam. Sammy." Reaching over to his brother's thrashing body and wrapping his arms tightly around him, he pulls him back against his chest to keep him from hurting himself. "Sam. Wake up bro. You aren't there anymore. You're safe. We got you out. You're okay, Sam. You're okay, Sammy." He sets his head on his brothers, keeping his mouth close to his brother's ear as he murmurs to him.

He continues for what could have been an hour before Sam calms down enough to stop screaming and thrashing. He snaps awake with one last whimper, eyes snapping open and his whole body tensing. At the feel of the tight hold around him, he squeezes his eyes closed. He takes a shaky breath. "Dean?"

He winces at the sound of Sam's voice. The screaming really did a number on it. "Right here, Sam." He feels like he got a few bruises from Sam's thrashing, but that's not important.

Sam's whole body relaxes, seemingly collapsing back into Dean in relief. "Oh God."

Dean relaxes his hold, but doesn't move away other than to grip his brother's arm. "You're alright man. You're not there anymore."

"I actually wish the hallucinations were back instead of this," he breathes quietly.

Dean sighs. "That sucks."

Sam lets out a harsh chuckle. "They weren't as bad. It was a lesser evil I guess. Like Cas had taken away the wall, but my mind didn't know the memories could be retrieved yet."

"Then after the incident with Dick…" Dean trails off as Sam nods a little.

"I got hit hard enough and messed up enough that it all poured out." His hand comes up to pat Dean's hand. "Have to sleep with my older brother like I'm five again so he can make the nightmares go away."

"We've been over this, Sam. It's not your fault. And if this is all I have to do to keep you in one piece, if this is it, then it isn't a hardship at all. Besides, you're warm. Good use when it gets cold out."

Sam huffs out a laugh. He rolls onto his back when Dean finally loosens his hold, though he doesn't move very far. "Looks like we have to do it again."

Dean cringes. That's right. He didn't check it tonight. "Damn Sammy, I'm sorry."

Sam frowns, looking to Dean in the slight light let in from the moon through the window. "For what?"

"I didn't check it tonight. I knew it was fading. I should have checked it."

Sam rolls his eyes. "You're stupid."

Dean glares. "Well I'm sorry for wanting to keep this from happening," he spits.

"Dean," his voice is soft enough to get his brother's attention, "this is probably going to happen a lot before we find a way to make it stick. It won't be your fault and I won't ever blame you. So chill out and go back to sleep. We'll redo it in the morning."

Dean huffs. "Whatever. Bitch."

Sam smiles to himself, settling in. "Jerk."

* * *

><p>The first thing Dean does in the morning is sharpen his knife. He wants this to be as painless for Sam as possible. Clean cut will make this easier and quicker. As soon as it's light enough, he drags Sam out the door of their small cabin.<p>

Sam smirks. "We have all day, Dean. Mark won't make us do anything when we tell him what we're doing."

"Wanna get it done Sam. Just go. Shirt off."

Sam sighs, albeit affectionately. "Always trying to get me naked," he teases.

Dean snorts. "Oh you know me, Sammy." They go to a more grassy area behind their cabin, throwing a pillow down. "Get comfy. It's not gonna be quick."

"Relax Dean. I know what we're doing this time. Just do it." He lays down on his stomach, arms up around the pillow to hold it under his head. "Have at it."

Dean lays a paper next to Sam. The drawing of the sigil on his back, and the incantation he needs to say before finishing it. Taking out his knife, he takes a breath. Flashes of his own time in hell assault him when he grips the blade. Just like last time. With the intention to cut into someone, the memories surge forward.

He flinches when he feels a hand on his knee. He looks down to see Sam looking worriedly at him.

"It's alright Dean. It's just me."

He shakes his head with a disgusted snort. "That's what makes it worse."

The hand grips his knee for a second. "I need it Dean. You're doing it because it'll help me." He moves his arm back up and lays still. "I trust you. Just like last time."

With one last deep breath, Dean leans over his brother, placing his left hand on Sam's shoulder to keep steady. "Alright Sam. Here we go. Let me know-"

"If I need a break, I know." Sam turns his head to give him a crooked smile. "Honestly Dean. If you don't do it right now, I'm going to get someone else to."

Dean levels a glare. Nobody takes a knife to Sam. Except him of course. "Over my dead body," he growls. He slaps Sam's head before leaning down again. "Hold still."

Sam grins smugly to himself. As if he'd ever trust someone enough to do this besides Dean. Then he clenches his jaw as Dean starts.

The two brothers have always been close, but they haven't always trusted each other. Situations that have pulled them apart and put them back together again took a toll on their relationship a time or two. But right now, in this moment like the time before, it's almost impossible to be any closer.

Sam's eyes are closed. He's completely relaxed. Totally dependent on Dean to protect him if anything happens right now. And trusting him to not make a wrong move. The sigil is big in order to get the small details right with a blade. It's from the middle of one shoulder to the other, from the top vertebra at his neck to halfway down his back. One wrong move, a slip, and quite a few things could go wrong. Especially the fact that the sigil wouldn't work at all, not to mention pointless pain and blood. A needle to make a tattoo would be better. Smaller, though it still would probably have to be a little big, and permanent. But they haven't found the means to do that yet.

Dean is focused. His eyes are on his 'work', trusting Sam to keep still. Totally dependent on Sam to not move and make this easier for him and safer for his brother. He's also aware of how vulnerable Sam is right now. He's alert, listening for any sign of danger though he's focused on what he's doing. That's why twenty minutes in, he freezes. His hand grips the blade tighter as he tenses and turns to the footsteps approaching.

The man approaching freezes at the look of complete hostility on Dean's face. It's a warning. Dangerous. The man's eyes move from his face to the blade then, going tense at the sight of blood on the tip. "What's going on here?"

Sam's eyes are open, watching the situation. When he sees the nervousness of the man, he lifts his head to rest it on his arm, grimacing a little at the sting when his shoulders move. "It's alright." His voice is low, more rough than usual from the way he overexerted it last night from screaming. It's also the only time he's talked to anyone but Dean and Mark in the past half year.

The guy looks to him incredulously, shivering at the voice. He can't make eye contact, Sam's shuttered face making him almost as nervous as Dean's knife. Who _are_ these people?

Dean finally gets himself calmed down enough to be at least a little civil to the man. Boy, really. Looks to be about in his younger twenties. He's got a little to learn yet. Like minding his own business. "It's not your business. Walk away." He looks down to Sam. "You doin' alright?"

Sam quirks a half smile. "Fine." He looks to the man. "Seriously. I'm fine."

Mark comes up behind him then, quirking an eyebrow at Dean before turning to the man next to him. "Drew. It's alright. These guys have their own agendas. Their own story. Leave them alone."

Drew, Dean and Sam gather, looks back to them. "Can I just ask why? Just to feel like I'm not leaving anything dangerous."

Dean chuckles, taking Mark's easiness of the situation to mean that he doesn't expect Drew to start trouble. "It's a spell. Keeps nightmares away."

Drew scowls. "Nightmares? You guys can't take a few nightmares?"

Dean's gaze gets cold. "You ever been to Hell, Drew? You ever been with the devil and an archangel while they tortured you?"

"Dean," Sam murmurs.

Drew's eyes get big. "God, I'm sorry. You're Sam and Dean." He looks to Mark. "Why didn't you tell anyone who they really are?"

Mark nods grimly. "This is why. They don't want recognition right now. They're still trying to get some crap together."

Drew looks to them. "Sorry guys. It was just something I'm not used to seeing."

Sam looks at him and gives him a small, wry grin that gives him goose bumps. "When it comes to me and Dean, it's best if everyone just butts out."

Dean looks down at him, letting himself be a little proud of how Sam is talking to someone other than himself. "Lay down and lay still before you mess up my work."

Sam sighs, laying back down. "Jerk. Was trying to keep you from killing the poor kid."

Dean taps his shoulder. "Yeah, yeah I hear ya, bitch." He gets back to work, falling back into his rhythm without even a second glance to Drew and Mark. He listens though as Mark leads the boy away.

"Those two have their own beat they follow when they're not fitting in to ours. They're not like anything any of us will understand. Both went to Hell, both came back different. They also have a relationship no one will ever be able to understand either. Something I haven't even come to grasp. And I saw some things on our way here."

Drew cuts in. "I've heard of the way they are together. Hunts they've taken down faster than any other pair of hunters. The things they've gotten through with each other. People say they're soul mates even though they're brothers and…" his voice gets softer and softer as they walk away until they're gone.

Dean works. Doesn't matter what people say about them. They're just… them. SamandDean. An explanation just isn't needed. He keeps working. An hour goes by. "You doin' okay still?"

"Perfect," Sam grits out. Dean's working over his shoulder blades now. "Just keep going. I just want it all done today."

Dean nods to himself, taking off his shirt before going back to where he left off. He uses it to dab at the blood on Sam's back, keeping the old scar clear for him to trace and only use the paper on the ground as a reference. "Sorry," he murmurs when Sam hisses as he goes over one of the bones in his back. He tries to do that quickly.

Another hour goes by. "Almost done Sammy. You want a break?"

Sam breathes in relief as he gets a second without pain. "How much more?"

"Just have from under your left shoulder almost to your back bone."

Sam sighs. "Just give me a few."

Dean sits next to him, keeping his other hand on Sam's shoulder. He looks over the carnage he's created on his brother's back. "Damn. Why don't you let me use the painkillers?"

"I can get through it without them, Dean. This is nothing compared to other stuff." He sounds tired, almost out of breath.

"You sound beat, man. This is taking a lot out of you. You haven't even made a noise this time." He eyes the sweat running down his brother's neck and back. It's only about sixty degrees out. It's all from the stress of staying still and keeping quiet.

"I can take it more this time. I know the feeling. I can almost ignore it."

"I call bull."

Sam snorts, grimacing just a little with the stinging in his back when his ribs expand. "Okay. Can't ignore it. But it just gets annoying after a while of being a constant."

Dean just shakes his head.

"Finish it," Sam murmurs a few minutes later.

Dean turns to him and starts without question. Better to just get it over with. When he gets to the last bit, he starts to mutter the incantation, saying it as many times as it takes to finish to make sure he gets it all in before he makes the finishing cut. He goes through it two times before he makes the last cut into his brother's back.

Sam makes a pained noise when the sigil is finished, hands gripping the pillow tightly as he rides out the completion of the spell as it makes the whole thing burn for a few seconds. Then he lets out a long breath, a groan sounding the whole way through it. "Ouch."

Dean grips his arm with one hand, dapping away the rest of the blood with the other. "You alright?" He takes the bandages and disinfectant from his pockets.

"As good as I can be." His voice is hoarse rather than the grit Dean's come to expect. "I hope it stays this time. Going over a scar and all that. It should stay."

"I hope so too, Sammy," Dean answers, starting on the cleaning process.

Sam hisses and grunts as Dean covers his cuts with the disinfectant. He stands up slowly with Dean's help and holds his arms out as Dean wraps up his back. "Leave me room to breathe," he huffs when one time around feels tight around his chest.

Dean chuckles. "Sorry. Just don't want it to slip. Any of this gets infected and we're in trouble. It'll be really hard to clean it up."

"It'll be fine. You've practically drowned me in that disinfectant."

"Damn straight."

When it's finally wrapped up, Sam lets Dean help him into his t-shirt. He hisses little at the movement of his shoulders.

"Let me know if you ever decide to need the pills, alright?"

Sam nods, looking over Dean's shoulder.

Dean turns to see Rick walking over. A man Mark had him meet the night before just out of principle. Marks second hand man. "Hey, Rick."

Rick nods, motioning to the blade in Dean's hand. "Everything alright?"

Dean chuckles. "Fine. What's up?"

Rick eyes Sam, standing a little stiff and turned away.

Dean recognizes his nervousness and has to keep from smirking. It's big brother pride that fills him when he sees that Sam can make people that nervous just by being in the same vicinity. _He_ could too if he wanted. But one of them has to be a little nice to keep up with what's going on around here. If everyone was too afraid to approach them, they'd miss things.

"Steel said you told Mark you wanted to take a walk around the fence. See the perimeter. He said now would be fine."

Dean nods, looking over his shoulder to Sam.

Rick watches as Dean only gives him a look. Sam seems to understand perfectly, nodding and murmuring something so low, Rick only catches the tone, not the words. The sound makes him shudder. He looks away when Sam's eyes look to him.

"Thanks Rick." Dean wipes his knife off, turning away. "Tell Steel we'll be there in a bit." He pats Sam's chest as he walks up to him before they both head into the cabin.

Rick shakes his head at the two. Colt and Campbell are the two most intriguing people in the world. Colt is so cold, so hostile and Campbell is so much more open it's amazing they stick together. What he just witnessed though, the communication in their eyes and touch, it's obvious they've been around each other a long time. He just doesn't understand. He can't understand what it is about them that just _screams_ 'inseparable' in the midst of their (mostly Colt's) war-weary faces that say 'detached'.

He turns and heads back to the post to tell Steel they're coming. He could get a headache trying to read into the two.


	9. Chapter 8

**Wanted to say sorry for taking so long. I'm not going to go all "woe is me" about what happened all last week and stuff, but it wasn't all sunshine and flowers. Anyway, here's the next chapter. Sorry for the wait. I just had to deal with some stuff first. I lost my muse for a while. I'm in the process of finding it again.  
><strong>

**Ch. 8**

Four months, one week ago. The next morning after starting looking for a spell.

"I'm telling you, you won't like it. Might as well not even consider it."

"Just tell me, Sam! Right now, I've got nothing either! I'll take anything!"

Sam pauses, closing the book. He keeps a finger in the pages, looking up at him in part confusion, part annoyance. "_You'll_ take anything?"

Dean throws the book in his hands down on the bed and raises his hands up in exasperation as he stands from where he was sitting next to Sam's feet. "Yes! Is it that horrible that I want you to be able to sleep at night? That I want you to be okay?" He stands next to the window, looking outside at the rising sun. They've been reading all night.

Sam's face falls before it softens into that look he knows he always gets whenever Dean lets him inadvertently know he cares about him. "Dean." He sighs when his brother doesn't turn around. "Dean." He waits until Dean heaves a sigh and turns around. He locks eyes with his brother. "I'm sorry."

Dean shakes his head. "I did say that wrong. Made it sound like it was about me. And it's not. You're the one suffering here. I just don't want you to suffer anymore."

Sam nods. "I should've known that. You never make anything about yourself. I shouldn't have gotten annoyed even if you were."

Dean waves it off.

Sam opens the book in his lap, biting his lip as he thinks for a minute. "You won't like it," he says one more time.

Dean sighs, walking back over to sit by Sam's feet on the bed like he was before. He sets a hand on Sam's leg. "Just tell me."

His brother looks at him, face serious. "It'd have to be done on my skin. Like our tattoos. A sigil. With an incantation with it to make it work."

Dean tilts his head. "We don't have anything for tattoos."

Sam nods, not looking up from the book. "Doesn't have to be in ink. Just on the skin…"

It only takes a second for Dean to understand. He lets out a list of expletives as he stands and turns away again, hand wiping over his mouth.

"I told you, you wouldn't like it."

"Shut up, Sam."

Sam frowns, almost flinching. This is the first time Dean has shown any type of anger at him since before all of this. He huffs, throwing the book to the floor before curling up on his side. "Don't blame me," he mutters. "Only thing I've found."

Dean sighs, hands going to his hips as he turns around, head hanging. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm not mad at you, Sam. I just… I don't…" He reaches for the single chair they have in their bedroom.

Sam's voice makes him freeze. "Don't pull away."

It's so soft, he barely hears it, but he looks to Sam's prone figure, knowing exactly what he means. His hand drops from the back of the chair. Instead, he goes to sit on the bed beside his brother. "Not pulling away, Sammy," he murmurs. He hesitates just a second before laying his arm on his brothers as if it were an armrest. A second later, he leans over to rest his chin on his arm to look over Sam's shoulder at his face. "Remember when you were… six I think. Right outside Abilene in Texas?"

"Dad was gone for the weekend after a…"

"He never told me," Dean muses. "That was before he started telling me about his hunts. Right before, really. But he was after _something_."

Sam chuckles.

"Anyway, you were worried. Because the next school year, I was going to be in the middle school building if it was separated from the grade school building in whatever town we stopped at."

"I didn't want you so far away."

Dean nods. "And I told you that I wouldn't ever be too far away."

"You'd come get me if I needed you."

"Exactly." Dean smiles when Sam turns his head a little to meet his eyes. "I won't pull away, Sam. I know you need me close by. I might have to separate myself from you so I don't get mad at you for no reason, but I'll never be too far away."

Sam nods. "Okay."

Dean grins. "Chick-flick for the day over?"

Sam grins back, eyes suspiciously shiny. "Yeah."

Dean pats his arm, but doesn't move from where he's leaning over his brother. Physical comfort has become a big thing to him, too. He used to not like it, but now… now he knows it's not a sign of weakness if it makes you stronger. And keeping in touch with Sam? Keeps them both stronger.

"I'm hungry."

Dean snorts, looking down at Sam in amusement at the quiet admission. "That's usually my line."

Sam only smiles up at him.

"Anything you hungry for in particular?"

Sam wrinkles his nose.

"Then I'll just go see what we have."

Sam gives him a look.

Dean sighs. "Keep looking. But mark this page. I'll keep it in mind, okay?"

Sam nods.

"Alright. I guess it's breakfast time."

They don't find anything else. Dean eventually gives in after a particularly bad night of nightmares. He hates the entire process. Taking a blade to Sam? Worst. Thing. Ever.

* * *

><p>Three months, two weeks ago.<p>

"Sam?"

Sam looks to him, his stupid hair flopping with the quick movement. It almost makes Dean smile. "It's almost time to take another trip for food."

Sam wrinkles his nose.

"Yeah, I know. But we have to. Your freakish eating habits don't help."

Sam sticks his tongue out at him.

Dean rolls his eyes. He's actually glad Sam has taken to eating more. It's helping him recover mass he lost during their first weeks here. And it will ensure muscle mass when they start training again. Which will be soon.

When Sam finally gets up, Dean puts a hand to his shoulder and turns him around. He lifts the back of his shirt, looking over the healing marks on his back. "They feeling alright?"

Sam nods. "Doesn't hurt."

Dean lets out a breath. "That's good." Sam has told him it stopped hurting before, but the redness is finally going away. It looks so much better now. A little less like Dean had just decided to use his brother to practice his torture skills. "You gonna do okay lifting things?"

Sam nods. Now put a little more at ease, Dean pats him on the shoulder before dropping the back of his shirt before they head out to the SUV they use to transport their food. They go down the mountain and start stocking up on food in cans and frozen that aren't past their expiration date. Well... not _too_ far past anyway.

Ever since the first time, Dean stays within hearing distance, though he can now go around the corner without his brother freaking out. He still doesn't go far.

As they're loading the SUV with more water bottles, Sam freezes.

Dean looks to him. "What is it?"

He lifts a finger to his mouth, eyes unblinking as he doesn't move. His whole body is tense. He's shaking.

Dean puts a hand to his shoulder to steady him, knowing the shaking is from nervousness. It's the first time something that could be a threat has gotten close to them since before the city fire. "Easy, Sam," he breathes. He taps three fingers to the inside of Sam's wrist.

Sam finally moves, motioning in answer to Dean's questioning tap. _Person. Around the corner. Headed this way._

Dean leads Sam silently around the SUV to crouch behind it as he hears the footsteps too. He signals Sam. _I'll check it out._ _Stay._

Sam grabs his wrist.

Dean shakes his head, hand going to fist in Sam's shirt over his chest. _I'll be back._

Sam takes in a sharp breath, his own hand moving up to grip Dean's shirt. _Promise._

Dean flattens his hand on Sam's chest, keeping it there for just a second before pushing him back against the car. _I promise. Now stay._

Puppy eyes turn into a glare.

Dean ignores him, hand going back to pull his gun from the back of his jeans. He slowly stands, going quickly and silently around the car to check things out. If it looks human, there's no guarantee it is. He stay's crouched behind things as he makes it to a building and looks around the corner.

It does look human. More human than a leviathan ever has. He has a bag slung over his shoulder and a gun at his side. Leviathans don't really need guns. It's when the man gets closer that Dean actually recognizes him. He huffs out a breath in surprise, stepping out from behind the building. "Hey, Mark." He has his gun aimed at him. Even though if he were a leviathan, it probably wouldn't help much.

Mark freezes, gun coming up quickly in response to the surprise. He lowers it a little though when he sees who it is. "Dean?"

Dean nods, gun still trained on him. "It's been a while."

Mark relaxes a little, letting lose a small grin. "It has." The grin falls. "Where's…?"

Dean is about to answer when he feels his brother right behind him. He glares over his shoulder. "I thought I told you to stay put."

Sam's eyes move from where they're locked on Mark for only a second. He spares a second of a glare down at him, defiantly pushing his chest more into Dean's shoulder. His steely gazes is on Mark.

"I swear, you're like a cat. I set you down but you keep following me home."

Sam deflates a little, eyes looking to him as he sort of ducks his head and starts to take a step away.

Dean sighs, gripping Sam's arm to keep him where he is. "Relax. I was kidding."

Mark watches the scene with a look uncannily like Bobby's. "I see some things never change. Though it all seems to be in a bit more of an extreme."

Dean and Sam both look back to him. Then at each other. Dean does the honors of saying what they're both thinking. "Before we get into any more talk, would you mind showing us you aren't a leviathan?"

Mark chuckles. "No problem." He takes a knife from his pocket, flipping it open before sliding a thin line on his arm. Red blood.

Dean nods. He does the same to himself. "I know Sam isn't." He doesn't want to have to put another mark on his brother's body for a while.

Mark shrugs, finally putting his gun away as he walks closer. "I imagine that's definitely something you would be able to tell."

Dean nods, holding out his hand. "So what brings you all the way out here?" he asks as Mark clasps his palm in a tight grip.

"That's a long story. And I have an idea you guys have one too?"

Dean looks at Sam.

Sam nods.

"We do, and it is long too. Why don't you come back up to the cabin with us?"

Mark follows and gets into their SUV to ride up to their cabin with them, staying out of the silent Sam's way when they unload. Later, he's sitting on a chair as they lounge on the couch and tell their story. And what a story it is. "So you had to carve it into his back?"

Dean grimaces and nods. "I hated every second of it. But it works." He looks to Sam, giving him a small smile. "Right, Sammy?"

For the first time since Mark walked up to the pair, Sam shows emotion. He cracks a smile in answer to Dean's. It's obvious who Sam really cares about. "You boys haven't changed. Still stubborn and still resourceful." He leans forward, elbows going on his knees. "I know you still have some work to do before you take me up on my offer, but I want to put it out there anyway."

Dean tilts his head. "What offer?"

Mark grins. "We're setting up a camp. A big camp. Where we can train people to help us stop what's going on with the leviathans. The world knows about them now. But they don't know what to do about it. Basically, almost the whole North American continent is moving under their control. Other countries are trying to figure out what will kill them. No luck yet."

Dean snorts. "No surprise there."

Mark nods. "So we're going to train people. Send them out to smaller camps across the continent to be ready when the time comes to take care of this. We don't know what we'll be doing yet, but we're training hand to hand combat, weaponry, shooting, and basically everything your dad put you guys through like is Marine drills."

Dean blinks.

Mark shrugs sheepishly. "He and Bobby had shared some of your training stories with me. Anyway, it's a bunch of hunters that are leading this. Some former military members too. So it will be professional. But you guys would be a huge help. After all you guys have been through and done, you'd be very resourceful."

Dean nods. "Thanks. But…" he looks to Sam, "we'll have to see how things go out here for a while first. We haven't done any training for a while."

Mark nods in understanding. "I know. You don't need to take me up on my offer right now, but we can set a date to meet? In a few months maybe. And a place. But we can have that set, and if you don't meet up with me, I'll be back there on the same day two months after that. If you don't show up then, you're on your own coming to our camp."

Dean looks to Sam.

Sam looks to Dean.

Mark watches the following exchange with almost a sense of awe.

A raised eyebrow from Dean.

A frown from Sam.

Dean rolls his eyes, shaking his head before leaning towards him. "No bringing up past crap. Remember?"

Sam huffs.

Dean puts a hand to his arm.

Sam looks down at his own hands. Then over to Dean, meeting his gaze through the hair hanging over his eyes.

Dean smiles, nodding. "You'll be fine."

Sam bites his lip.

"You will. Promise. Good as new."

Sam rolls his eyes, aiming a smirk at Dean.

Dean sighs. "Fine. Maybe not _new_, but you'll be good. You'll see." He looks to Mark. "When and where?"

Mark doesn't bring up the seemingly one-sided conversation he just witnessed. But he knows that having two people who can speak almost wordlessly to each other will be a lethal pair in combat. Of course, Winchesters have always been lethal. "Well… how about four months from now?"


	10. Chapter 9

**This chapter took me a while because of homework. So it's extra long to make up for it. About 500 more words than usual. I actually had this typed pretty quick when I actually sat down. Anyway, here it is. Hope it was worth the wait. :)  
><strong>

**Ch. 9**

Dean sits across from Mark and the other three group leaders. Going over hotspots marked on the map by blue 'x's.

Sam stands right behind him, watching over his shoulder and mentally going over all of the information he's gathering.

Mark points to an 'x'. "That's where we lost twenty people last time. We went out to get supplies and found out too late that they had moved in and made base there. Totally blindsided us."

Dean nods grimly. "They're sneaky bastards. You attack any of their bases?"

A man next to Mark, who had introduced himself as Drake, nods. "Blew up that one there." He points to a red 'x'.

Dean grins. "Did it work?"

"We don't know the effect fire had on them, but they never rebuilt the base," Crow, one of the other leaders, answers.

Dean wonders if he's called that for his black hair or if there's a personality reason involved with the nickname. He nods thoughtfully. "Do they know you're here?"

Mark shakes his head. "We don't know if it's that they don't know we're here, or they don't really know what we're doing here."

Dean snorts. "They don't know you're an army base, basically."

All of the leaders nod.

"We were planning on taking some people out and repeating that performance in two days," Mark says ruefully.

Dean looks up, a spark of interest in his eyes. "Sounds like fun." He looks over his shoulder. "What do you think?"

Sam chuckles lowly. "Thrilling." He leans over Dean's shoulder, pointing to an 'x'.

Dean nods in agreement. "You guys said that one was a bigger base?"

The fourth leader, Sky, nods. "More operations based there. Saw them ship in a ton of equipment. We're still not sure on their plan yet. We only have theories based on the info we're getting from scouts."

Dean is still trying to figure out if they call him Sky because of the bright blue color of his eyes or if it's his real name. Maybe it's short for Skylar… "You think we should do that one?" he asks, tilting his head back a little towards Sam.

Sam nods, eyes scanning over the map. He draws lines with his fingers.

Dean looks to the map. "It'd be best if we go in decently sized, but also small, groups." He starts translating how Sam drags his fingers as routes across the map. "I don't know how you guys handled the last one, but we should move in from three different directions. In waves. Maybe four. They won't be expecting things to keep coming."

"Draw out," Sam adds.

Dean nods. "It'd be best to draw most of them out."

Sam pauses, a different expression crossing his face before it goes back to its normal stoicism. He clears his throat.

Dean rolls his eyes, recognizing the expression as Sam's annoyance at having to talk. He puts a hand to Sam's arm to keep him from talking. "I already know what you're thinking. You don't need to talk. I still have my voice."

Sam raises an eyebrow at him, a corner of his mouth quirking up in an amused smirk.

Dean smirks back. "Yes, I know exactly what you're thinking."

Sam waves an arm towards the map. _Go ahead then_.

Dean chuckles, turning back to the leaders. "Groups of maybe three or four should sneak in and start setting explosives in the major support areas of whatever buildings they're in. They'll be sneaking in at the end of each wave, the next wave distracting the leviathans as they move into the occupied buildings. When we get a report for the clear, we retreat and light the place up." He looks to Sam. "Did I miss anything?"

Sam rolls his eyes, leaning his hip on the back of Dean's chair as he crosses his arms. "Tricks," Sam murmurs.

Dean snaps his fingers. "That's right." He looks over the group. "What do you guys know about taking these things down long enough to get away?"

Crow groans. "Not much. As we said, we didn't stick around to see what the fire did. And we know about the cleaning stuff. But it's hard to find these days."

Dean nods, looking up to Sam. "We have a little teaching to do. Ready for a training session tomorrow?"

Sam nods.

Dean looks back to the group. "Alright. With the risk of sounding full of ourselves…"

Sam snorts.

Dean glares up at him before continuing. "We know a few tricks. Would you want to get whoever's going on this together tomorrow so we can show them a few things? What training do you have set up here?"

Sky speaks up. "Target practice. Shooting and knives. And we have some combat training." He shrugs. "Basic stuff."

Dean nods thoughtfully. "You mind if we see a combat session?"

"Not at all. We're having one tonight actually. My group."

Dean looks to Sam. "Will you be up for a demonstration?"

Sam knows he's talking about his back. He nods. It's been two days. It's fine.

"You sure?"

He's answered with an exaggerated eye roll.

He chuckles. "Alright." He looks to Sky. "We'll be there."

* * *

><p>"So what do you think?"<p>

Sam's calculating eyes move over the two sparring in the middle of the field. It's a few seconds before he answers. "They're going too easy on each other."

Dean nods in agreement. "They're more focused on not hurting each other rather than what their next move will be."

Sam nudges him with his shoulder. "We used to do that too," he says with a small smile. It widens when Dean snorts.

"We grew out of it though. Learned that the damage we do to each other would be less than anything else would be if they're really trying to hurt us."

Sam's arm rests against Dean's when he leans a little closer. "We going to demonstrate?"

Dean nods. "If you're up for it. They need it. It'll be like a challenge to them. If we act like we can take more than them, maybe they'll want to go after the prize for 'manliest man'."

Sam chuckles darkly. "Sounds like you."

"Shut up."

Sam smirks. "No." The smirk disappears when Sky starts walking up to them.

"See anything, Campbell?"

Dean nods. "I don't want to step in too much. You're the leader. But I would like to say a few things to them."

Sky nods. "I'm open to suggestions. I'm not exactly a teacher. I just give them tips."

"My dad taught me everything I know. Was a Marine. I'd like to teach them a few of the things that have helped me."

Sky waves his hand towards his men. "Be my guest."

Dean walks up to the group, Sam right behind his shoulder as usual. He chuckles. "You're like my bodyguard, dude."

Sam punches him in the back.

Dean glares over his shoulder. "Bitch."

Sam smirks darkly. _Jerk._

Dean turns back to the men who have grouped together in front of them. They wait to see what the newcomers have to say. A lot of them are skeptical. Some are nervous. Dean sees it all. He has to keep his smile from turning into a smirk. "Gentleman."

Someone snorts.

Dean grins. "I'm Campbell. This is Colt. I've talked to Sky and he said it's okay for us to teach you a few things."

"No disrespect," a man in the front sneers, "but what could you teach us that we haven't already learned? We've been out there. We've fought. We've learned." The man's eyes move from Dean to Sam. He stiffens.

Dean looks over his shoulder.

Sam is aiming a deadly glare at the man. He's tense. His jaw is clenched.

Dean touches his arm. "Easy."

Sam looks to him, almost hopeful.

Dean shakes his head. "No way, man. He wouldn't stand a chance. It's you and me today. You can challenge him later. Okay?"

Sam huffs, relaxing a little. He looks petulant for a second. Almost like a child. Then he levels the glare back on the man.

Dean looks to him. "You thinking you know everything shows how much you still have to learn."

The rest of the men in the group chuckle.

Dean looks them over, appraising. "Everyone has something to learn. I do. You do. No one will ever know everything that could possibly be known about defending their life. It'd be useful. Unfortunately it's an impossibility. Today, Colt and I are going to show you how we train. Because honestly? You guys are doing okay. But it's not very realistic."

"What do you mean?" someone asks.

Dean signals Sam, looking to the man who spoke up as his brother walks away. "Watch us. And then I'll ask you what you've learned."

The man nods.

Dean turns to where Sam has started limbering up. He grins when he notices he's already sweating. "Warming up? You look warm enough already." He moves to take off his shirt, wiping some of his own sweat away before tossing it to the side. The weather has gotten warmer recently. The sun shines brightly, still lowering to the horizon.

Sam smirks darkly at him, spreading his hands as he hunches forward. _Bring it._

Dean grins. "I don't want to hurt you. You sure your back can take it?"

Sam rolls his eyes. He moves his hands to his own shirt, pulling it over his head and throwing it at Dean. The thinner layer of bandages is a reminder to Dean that he's healing just fine and can take whatever he dishes out.

The men around them blatantly stare, shocked and wondering what the bandages hide that have to cover almost his whole back. The many scars the brothers have also draw attention, but almost everyone has their own set these days so it's not quite as striking.

Dean grimaces, throwing the sweaty shirt away. "I get the point. Let's get to it then, shall we?" He steps forward.

Sam's world shrinks to just the two of them. Him and Dean. "Waiting on you, old man," he says darkly, voice like a venomous snake. A mix between a seductive purr and a dangerous hiss. It startles some of the men who have never heard him talk.

Sky stands on the sidelines with his men, shifting nervously as he sees 'Colt' shifting into something dangerous. Sure, he's seen the huge guy walking around camp. He's definitely a threat. But now… now he's ready to fight. He looks like he's itching to kill something. It's extremely unnerving.

Dean only grins at Sam's words. "All talk and no bite, dude. You gonna actually do something?" He inches forward as Sam does.

It's completely still for a second. Then they explode.

It's like they move as one, going at each other with mirror movements. Almost as if they read each other's mind. They move across the field at extreme speed, eyes shifting so quickly it doesn't seem like they should be able to gather all of the information from each other. And it's violent. Excessively so.

The men flinch each time one of them gets a hit on the other. If they didn't know any better, they'd say the two were in a fight to the death. Punches are strong, moves are made with intent to harm, and neither give any mercy.

To the brothers, this is just another normal training session. Punches are pulled. Not all the way, but they're softened. Enough to leave bruises, not broken bones. Twists of a wrist or arm are lessened enough to keep from breaking anything but not enough to let them get away. They trust each other. They know each other's limits. They still push the boundaries.

As one, the two separate again, circling each other. Sam spits to the ground, blood from where Dean had nailed him in the mouth with his elbow staining his bottom teeth as he grins.

Dean shakes out his hand from where Sam had gripped it hard enough to grind bones together when keeping him from landing a hit to his neck. "You break my hand, I break your face, understood?"

Sam only grins in delight. He'd gotten Dean. Point for him.

Dean glares. "No point system," he growls as if reading his brother's mind.

Sam only grins, lunging forward again.

Dean blocks the strike, bending Sam's arm back behind him and moving his foot forward with the intent to send him to the ground. If he gets Sam on the ground, there's no longer a height advantage. However, Sam sees it coming and hooks his foot around Dean's, startling him. In that second, he throws his weight into Dean's chest with his shoulder. They both hit the ground, letting out simultaneous 'oofs'.

It turns into a wrestling match until Dean kicks Sam away. Both rolling to their feet, they move towards each other again. When Dean blocks both of Sam's next strikes, they pause a few feet away from each other. Sweat runs down their faces and backs.

Dean runs his arm over his forehead. "That all you got?"

Sam pulls his knife from his side.

Dean blinks.

Everyone around them stops breathing, eyes on either Colt or Campbell. Wondering what Campbell will do and how crazy Colt really is. Then they see the second change. For once, it's easy to see how the two get along so well. Campbell turns into a dangerous creature, just as Colt had done minutes ago.

Dean's face curls into a dark grin, transforming just as Sam did. "It's about time."

The two go at it again, only this time it's even more fierce. Sam snarls as Dean maneuvers himself around to grab Sam around the neck, trying to choke him. Sam eventually gets his head back to collide with Dean's, making his brother release him with a grunt. Then Dean growls. "That's it." He crouches, pulling his own knife from his boot.

Sam's grin turns almost sadistic with childish delight. "Yes."

Dean grins like he just achieved some greatness by making Sam happy. "Come and get me, boy."

Sam does.

For a while, neither of them can get a strike against the other. Then Dean loses his balance as Sam throws his weight into his shoulder. It's a second for Sam's knife to slide right over Dean's side. He grins in triumph as Dean hisses. His second of distraction by his satisfaction gives Dean the opening he needs. He goes for Sam's forearm, still wrapped around him as they're locked together.

Sam growls, letting go and stepping back. Before he gets too far away though, he hooks his foot around Dean's leg, drawing it up to grab the end of his pants in his fist. He yanks up. Dean hits the ground on his back. Sam goes for the killing strike, taking advantage of Dean losing his breath with the impact. His blade stops barely a centimeter away from Dean's jugular.

The men around them, forgotten by the pair, watch in fear as Colt sends Campbell to the ground and swings his knife down. They all intake a sharp breath, Sky being the only one to jerk forward to stop him though he knows it's too late. They all stand frozen though when the blade freezes, watching the two just look at each other. Colt crouched over Campbell, blade still poised, and Campbell looking up at him with a look of surprise.

As they watch, the look changes to the utmost pride, his chest puffing out even as he lays on the ground under the blade. They see his lips move, though they can't hear what he says.

"That's my boy, Sammy," Dean murmurs, eyes filled with pride.

Sam's face lights up, turning into a satisfied and proud grin as he stands. He puts his knife away and offers his hand to Dean, pulling his brother to his feet.

Dean steps forward, throwing his arm around Sam's shoulders as he smiles up at him. "Don't get used to it," he says a little louder. "It's only the first time you've taken me down."

Sam rolls his eyes, shrugging. He can't seem to stop grinning.

Dean turns to the man who had asked him what he meant about not being realistic. "What did you learn?"

The man stares at them in awe. "If we don't practice like we're fighting for our life, we won't know how when it really comes down to it."

Dean smirks, approval evident. Then he steps forward, offering his hand. "What's your name, dude?"

The man takes his hand in a firm grip, shaking once. "Liam."

Dean nods. "Good, strong name for a good, strong man. You have what it takes, Liam. Keep the attitude you have and you'll learn so many things."

Liam nods.

Dean releases his hand, stepping back to touch his shoulder blade to Sam's chest. He looks over the men. "Leviathans won't go easy on you. If you haven't been within thirty feet of one yet, you don't know what it's like. Make sure you're ready to defend your life. Whatever it takes. Because you never know when they'll decide you're who they want for lunch next."

"What do you know about the leviathans?" the skeptic from before asks.

Sam looks to him. Eyes hard. "Wait until you drop a car on one and see it alive again. Or maybe cut off their head and see it reattach."

The men around him shiver at his voice. There's just something about it… Cold. Like the Devil himself is talking to them.

Dean touches his arm again, hearing the ice in his brother's voice he mentally calls the  
>"Devil's Echo". A voice that would make him shiver with the memories of the devil inside his brother if he didn't keep them from tainting the view he has on his brother now. The boy he raised to be the strong man that fights against his mental handicaps and struggles. "Easy, man. He'll learn eventually."<p>

Sam looks to him.

Dean smiles. "C'mon. I have a feeling I need to check your back. And I'm starving."

Sam relaxes. Because Dean's with him. Who cares what anyone else thinks about them?


	11. Chapter 10

**Yes, this chapter is way overdue. But every time I would go to read it over, I fell asleep. Been busy lately. All in all, I finally got it done. Enjoy :)  
><strong>

**Ch. 10**

Three months ago.

"See, I told you. You can do it."

Sam shakes his head. "Fluke."

Dean snorts. "Idiot."

Sam shrugs.

"So do it again."

Sam sighs.

"Do it."

With an annoyed frown, he pulls his blade from its sheath, twirling it around through his fingers before turning and swinging his arm forward to throw it all in a split second motion of annoyance. It hits the target dead center. He blinks.

Dean laughs. And laughs. He leans against a tree as he tries to pull himself together.

Sam looks to him, smiling softly. He really missed that sound.

"I think you've found your new talent, Sammy," Dean gets out when he's calmed himself. "You've always been good at throwing knives, but not _that_ good. I'm impressed."

Sam shrugs almost shyly, walking over to pull his knife from the target. "Control," he says simply.

"We should see how far away you can get."

They do. Sam's accuracy stays perfect for a long distance.

Dean grins next to him. "You wanna try some sparring?"

Sam looks to him, biting his lip.

"What?"

He shrugs, looking away as he goes to retrieve his blades.

"No, Sam. Don't do that. Don't shut me out. C'mon. What's up?"

Sam stops after pulling a knife from one of the targets. He looks at it as he twirls it around. Something he's been doing for weeks now, prompting Dean to have him actually use them. "Afraid."

Dean's heart freezes at that word. Sam never admits to fear. "Of what, Sammy?"

Sam looks to him. "Still don't feel in control."

"You just said…"

"Control over the knife. Not necessarily anything else."

Dean's hand closes around his arm. "I'm right here. I won't let anything happen, okay?"

Sam nods, looking down at the knife again. "S'what I'm afraid of.

He shakes his head. "Sam. You need to let me help you with this. I don't understand everything that's going on in your head. Why you hesitate to do things you've always done or why you're more nervous than you've ever been. But I'm here. Right here. And I'm not going anywhere so it'll be easier on both of us if you let me in."

Sam taps the flat side of the blade against the palm of his hand as he thinks. Then he looks up to Dean. "Start slow."

Dean nods. "Anything you want. But we need to keep moving forward."

Sam puts his blade away, nodding.

Dean steps forward, putting his hands on Sam's shoulders. He looks into his brother's eyes. "Anything that's going on in your head, push it away. Right now."

Sam makes a face.

Dean sighs. "Close your eyes. Sam… Okay. Now breathe. Just breathe."

He does. He breathes. In, out. In, out.

"What do you hear? Tell me."

"Dean…"

"Humor me, bitch."

"Jerk."

"What do you hear?"

A sigh. "Birds. Leaves."

"What else?"

"Your voice."

"Now, what do you feel?"

"The wind. Your hands on my shoulders."

"Open your eyes."

Sam does, looking down the small gap to Dean.

"Now what do you see?"

Sam's breath catches. He gets it. "You."

"What else?"

"Just you."

Dean smiles, then puts his hand over Sam's heart. "I'm right here, Sam. Hear me, feel me, see me, or not."

Sam nods.

"I know your uncertainty about what's real and what's not really gets you. Even if you aren't seeing the devil anymore. You aren't lieing about that, right?"

Sam shakes his head.

"We're going to get through this whole leviathan problem. Together. You and me. Nothing else matters. Clear your head of everything else right now. It's just you and me. Okay?"

Sam nods, closing his eyes to breath a few times before opening them and looking down at Dean. "You and me."

Dean pats Sam's chest where his hand is still resting over his heart. "Let it all go and you'll feel better. You will." Then, just to cement his words, he pulls Sam into his arms.

Sam doesn't even question him. Just closes his arms tightly around his brother, burying his face in his neck like he used to when he was a kid and his brother was the strongest person in the world. "I'll try," he mumbles.

"That's all I'm asking."

* * *

><p>Sam's better. Much better. Totally worth the chick-flick moment the other day. He's not as jumpy. A little more confident. Less dependent on Dean, though he still likes to keep him near. Dean notices it's more when they're away from the cabin though. He contemplates this. Eventually he decides it's time to get Sam out more. Give him back the skill of conforming to a different environment. But he also thinks it might help him relax a little.<p>

So that's what he does. Packs up the impala and almost physically pushes Sam out the door. "We're going camping."

"We're in a cabin."

"We're going camping like we used to."

"The car's too small."

"You say that every time. Besides, it's nice enough that we can lay on the ground tonight."

Sam wrinkles his nose as he gets into the impala.

"Stop complaining. It's a part of our training."

"Dean."

"No."

Sam grunts.

"Exactly. Now shut up and let me drive."

He doesn't go far. Just about two hours down the mountain, and turning into a clearing he finally sees off the side of the road through some trees. He parks the impala where it won't be seen from the road in case (by some impossible chance) someone comes by. Then he gets out.

Sam sighs as he stands. "We have a back yard."

Dean glares.

Sam shrugs. _Just saying._

Dean ignores him, pulling stuff together for a fire.

For a while, Dean watches Sam's eyes shift everywhere. His body is tense. His hands seem to move a lot without actually doing anything. Eventually though, he calms down enough to sit next to Dean with his back at the impala and the fire in front of them.

"Marshmallow?"

Sam laughs, reaching into the bag his brother seemed to magically produce and looks around for a stick.

Dean holds one out to him. He grins in triumph when Sam laughs again. "I'm always prepared, Sammy boy."

Sam rolls his eyes, watching as his marshmallow slowly browns. He looks to Dean's, scrunching up his nose when he sees it catch on fire. It scrunches more when Dean waits to blow it out until it's burnt all over.

Dean doesn't even look over. "Eat your food the way you like. Leave mine alone." He pulls it off the stick, popping it into his mouth. "Ow. Hoh. Wery hoh."

Sam rolls his eyes at his brother's garbled words. "Serves you right for burning it to death." He pulls his perfectly browned marshmallow off his stick, looking to Dean smugly.

His brother glares, finally swallowing. "Shut up."

"You're just jealous your marshmallow sucked."

Dean punches him in the arm, staring in wonder at his brother as he puts a new marshmallow on his stick. He can't tear his eyes from the genuine smile on his brother's face. Dimples and everything. Finally. His brother is relaxing for the first time in months. He looks away quickly when Sam starts to look back. He busies himself with getting another marshmallow of his own.

It's quiet for a while. Leaning against the car as they watch the fire burn until it's low enough to see the stars clearly. It's when Dean is throwing another load of branches onto the fire that Sam speaks again.

"Thanks."

Dean looks to him. "For what?"

Sam shrugs. "Getting us out here. It's almost like…"

"The crap from the past few hears hasn't happened?"

Sam nods. "Yeah."

Dean notices suddenly that Sam has been talking more out here. But his voice is still that of the war-weary. Sad, angry, hurt, and so much more wrapped into the rough timber and lowness his voice has come to be. But tonight, there's a slight lightness to it. Less of the detached sound it's had.

Dean gives him a soft, half-smile. "You're welcome."

Sam smiles back.

They've made a step towards his healing tonight. Dean's a little proud of the part he played in that.

* * *

><p>Two and a half months ago.<p>

"Sam. Hey!" Dean is panicking over his unresponsive brother. They ran into a werewolf when getting supplies. They went to the town a few hours down the mountain, one the leviathans had went through, and ran into the creature as it scrounged through the city.

They didn't see it until it was too late. It leapt on Sam, sending him to the ground before he could even reach for his knife. It was after Dean shot it that he saw the red on his brother's arm. Then the panic set in.

"Sam! C'mon man! I need you to let me know you're still in there."

Sam only leans against the SUV where Dean set him up, eyes seemingly blank. Empty. It scares the hell out of Dean.

"Sammy!" He's stitching up the would now. Already almost done. It was deep, though not long or very wide. But there's a cold pit in his stomach. He doesn't know whether it was a bite or a scratch. "C'mon, Sam." He also doesn't know how to reach his brother. Has no idea what happened.

After wrapping Sam's arm and still not getting an answer, he does the only thing he can think of. He takes Sam's face in his hands, pulling his brother's face to touch his forehead to his. "Sammy. If you're in there, I need you to hear me. I'm right here. Okay?" He threads his fingers through Sam's hair like he used to do when they were kids. "Feel me. I'm right here." He tilts Sam's face up to look at him. "Look at me, Sam. I'm right here."

He repeats that for a while. Going between soothing his brother and trying to get him to respond. Always ending with 'I'm right here'. Eventually, when he looks into his brother's eyes, there's life in them. "Sammy?"

Sam blinks. Then lets out a breath, as if he had been holding it. "Dean."

"Right here, man."

Sam's eyes meet his. There's fear in them. "What happened?"

"I was hoping you could tell me. You blanked out there."

Sam looks down at his arm. He seems to stop breathing. "Was it a bite?"

"Damn."

Sam looks up, eyes wide.

"I was hoping you could tell me."

Sam seems to slump back against the car again. He looks down at his wrapped arm. "You might have to-"

"No."

"Dean…"

"I said no. It has to be a scratch. Now come on. Let's get home."

Sam doesn't argue. Too worried to. The drive back to the cabin is tense and silent. He feels his brother's eyes on him. "I'll let you know if I feel anything," he mutters.

Dean's hands tighten on the wheel. "I wasn't… I'm just worried about you."

Neither of them talk again until they're back at the cabin. When they get there a few hours later, Dean pulls Sam by a fist in his shirt into the house and pushes him onto the couch. "Now you are going to sit here and rest. I'll get you food."

Sam grabs his arm as he starts moving away. "Dean."

Dean tries to pull away.

Sam reaches around and grabs the gun from his brothers back, flipping it in his hands before holding the handle out to him. "At least have it ready."

Dean looks at him for a second, mouth partly open and eyes wide in shock. Then he snaps out of it. "No." He takes the gun, taking the magazine of silver bullets out and throwing it into a corner of the room.

Sam huffs, running a hand through his hair. "Dean you need to be ready to do what needs to be done."

Dean shakes his head. "I won't kill you. I'll chain you up or something."

"S'not going to work," Sam sighs.

"We don't even know if anything happened. And I'm pretty sure it didn't." When Sam doesn't look up from where he's staring into his lap, he sighs and sits on the couch next to him. "You're fine Sam. You'll see." He throws his arm around Sam's shoulders, pulling him against his side and gently nudges his little brother's head down to rest on his shoulder.

Sam concedes, letting out a sigh. "Idiot."

Dean chuckles. "I'm right here. We'll wait out the night together. Alright?"

Sam nods. Doesn't bother trying to persuade his brother to do anything. It isn't going to work anyway.

They sit through the night. Watch the moon rise and the white light through the window move across the floor. Eventually, Dean moves them so they're laying side by side on the couch, his arm still curled around Sam's shoulders so his brother has to lay his head on his chest. Not unlike how they used to lay when they were little. And how they've started waking up like in the mornings from Sam's 'cuddle instinct' since they started sharing a bed again.

Eventually, Sam falls asleep. In the morning, he blinks his eyes open to the sun coming through the window. He lifts his head, looking down at his brother as he sleeps peacefully next to him. It's with a look of wonder spreading across his face that he finally gets it. Dean really is right here. And he isn't going anywhere. He's trying his best to keep Sam together. And he really wants to be here. Otherwise, he wouldn't try so hard to reach out.

He lays his head back on Dean's chest, closing his eyes and smiling a little at the sound of his brother's heartbeat. He falls back to sleep. Neither of them wake up for a while.

* * *

><p><strong>Yeah, I know it was obvious nothing was gonna happen because they're fine in the present. But there's no way life at the cabin could be peaceful. And the boys are just a magnet for trouble. But the trouble is what pushes them closer together so I used this as a way to show how they became so dependent on each other. How Sam totally decides to make Dean his stone number one. So yes. That's what this chapter was.<strong>


	12. Chapter 11

**I want to thank everyone for the comments. :) It really keeps me motivated in my updates. **

**This one is actually up on time because half of it was what I already had as an idea and just had to work it in. So here it is.  
><strong>

**Ch. 11**

Present

"You aren't going without me!"

"Well I'm not going _with_ you! So either you stay here or you leave them a leader short! Do you want to be responsible for the death toll?"

Sam grits his teeth. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not! An infection a year ago was bad. Now? It could mean death! So you stay here and take the little medicine we have!"

"It's not that bad," Sam spits.

"You can't see it. _ I_ can. And you aren't going out with us today." Dean crosses his arms, feet firmly planted shoulder width apart. His 'I'm not budging on this' stance.

"I've fought with worse," Sam growls.

"Well not anymore," Dean says lowly. "That show we put on for everyone should have waited a few more days. But we didn't. So now we have to put up with the consequences. You ripping open some of the cuts on your back. So you have to stay here."

Sam reverts to the puppy eyes. "Dean…"

Dean shakes his head. "No. You're staying. That's final." He walks forward and hugs Sam before he can say anything else. "Stay out of trouble. I'll be back."

"But…"

"No, Sam." He lets his brother go, backing towards the door to their cabin. "I'll be back. I promise."

"But…" Sam lets out a distressed sound as his brother closes the door behind him. "I have a bad feeling," he finishes to the empty room.

* * *

><p>Their target was the building Sam had pointed out the other day. Dean and the other leaders had conferred over the plan. Each of them had their own groups, making a total of five. Five different waves to hit the building with. The last time they blew up a building, it wasn't this complicated. This building though, is bigger and has more leviathans in it than most of the surrounding posts.<p>

Mark leads the first group in to start the distraction. Drake and Sky lead the second groups in. Drake's acts like a second wave while Sky leads his small group into the building and sets the detonators while the leviathans are distracted. Then Crow's group swoops in, pun absolutely intended, to be another wave to distract the leviathans from noticing Sky's group moving back out. That's where Dean's group comes in. They join in at the end to cover everyone as they retreat before the building is set to blow.

Step one works. Marks group going at the leviathans at the outside of the building draws more out. When there seems to be a lot more, Drakes group shows. Sky's group isn't even seen by others on their own side as they sneak into the building. Everything goes perfect. Sky gives the all clear over the radio when his people are ready to retreat, Crow's group moving in to make another distraction.

In the meantime, Dean's group had a small problem with a few stray leviathans, probably making a perimeter round or going to get supplies. The scuffle they get into is over quickly and quietly, heads either blown to pieces or severed and kept apart as taught by Sam and Dean the other day. Dean loses one of his guns when thrown through the air. It angers him. It's his favorite one. He blows off the head of the leviathan who made him drop it. Someone else makes the killing chop.

He doesn't have time to look for his gun. They have a schedule to keep. They need to be in position when Mark radios in. So when the few leviathans are taken care of, he leads his group on, mentally cursing the loss of his favorite gun. He hopes he has a chance to get it back later. He gets his men to their point right on time.

"_Dean, we're ready to make our retreat," _Mark radios. Dean turns to the front men of his group, nodding. They move, the others following. They start firing on any leviathan in range. The ground is covered in black goo and bodies lying in pieces or trying to glue themselves back together. The leviathans have gathered their own guns to fire back.

Dean and his group make their way all the way to the front of their line, firing as the people who've run out of ammo turn and sprint to safety. One by one, person after person makes it to safety behind rubble or buildings far off the battle field. Dean and a few others are all that are left at the front. "_Light it up,"_ Dean radios to Sky.

A second later the building blows. The rest of Dean's team turns and sprints away from the fire and falling debris. Dean just calmly turns and walks away. He and Sam have done this enough to be used to it by now. Then there's a searing pain in his side, causing him to cry out and fall to his knees as his arm wraps around the gash now in his side.

"Dean."

Dean's breath freezes in his lungs when he recognizes the voice.

* * *

><p>It's a shock to everyone when Dean is sliced by a piece of debris and falls to the ground. Now too far away to even do anything, they can only stare in shock at the leviathan that walks forward, the one who had thrown the sharp debris at Dean. He stands inches away from Dean and looks down at him in a crisp business suite with his hands in his pockets. As if he were ready to make a business deal. There's no question who this is. Dick Roman.<p>

No one dares to even breathe as Dick stands over Dean. He smiles down at him and they see his lips move though they can't hear what he says. Dean stiffens before answering. It's obvious it was nothing good. Mark scrambles to find him a way out of this.

"Are you all cowards?" he hisses after trying to get a group together to charge him and save Dean.

"Mark. That's Dick Roman. The head honcho. You know this. Not even our little tricks take him down." Liam looks at 'Campbell' with distress. "I'm sorry Mark. I liked him too."

* * *

><p>"It's been a while, Dean. Not since I saw you drag your brother out of the burning city. I was sure he was a goner after that hit to the head." He chuckles to himself as if he just told a good joke.<p>

Dean stiffens. "Go to hell."

"Now, now. No need to get nasty." He looks towards where he knows the others are taking cover. "Where is he now, Dean? Did he not make it after all? It doesn't look like many people care for you outside of him, does it? No one's coming to save you."

"They aren't suicidal," Dean growls. His arm is tight around his middle. His vision is getting a little blurry. That's not good. "Sam's safe," he says, giving himself some relief in the situation he's stuck in right now.

"Hmmm." Dick crouches next to him. "But you aren't. It's a pity this was so anticlimactic. I was expecting a big showdown with you." He smiles, reaching for Dean's neck.

"Dick!"

Every head on the battle field turns to the furious voice. It takes a few of them a second to locate it. Eventually, all eyes are locked on Sam where he stands only twenty feet away from the pair out in the open. No one even saw him walking in. He's got a gun in his hand, hanging at his side for now. But there's something different that everyone notices. He looks menacing. Huge. The man that's been walking around them at camp is nowhere to be seen in this one. Even if he had seemed dangerous before. This is ten times scarier.

His eyes are dark and aimed at the threat to Dean. "Step away from my brother." His voice sounds like venom with its roughness mixed with his anger. The first time it's been used like this since before he stopped talking much.

The way he says it too, with so much hate towards Dick tangled together with so much affection and conviction for Dean, tells most of the former hunters in the area around them who these two_ really_ are with the word 'brother' tacked on. For the others, it clicks as soon as 'Campbell' speaks up.

"Damnit, Sam."

Sam spares a smirk down at Dean.

Dean blinks in surprise, then smirks back. Sam is back. This is the Sam that's been gone for the past half year. Of course, he shouldn't be surprised. Sam always pulls through when he's needed the most.

Sam is looking back at Dick now. "Back off. _Now!_"

He stands slowly. "Sam. Nice to see you still functioning."

Sam sneers. "Go to hell."

Dick almost smiles in amusement. "Just like your brother. So offensive."

Dean snorts, groaning when a spark of pain flares up afterwards. He makes a sign with his hand for Sam to hurry up.

"Back away from Dean before I shoot and keep shooting until you're in so many pieces it'll take you months to glue yourself back together."

He doesn't move, only contemplates for a minute.

"If it doesn't kill you, it'll still hurt like hell." Sam raises the gun in his hand, pulling another from the back of his pants to level at him too. If Dean were looking, he'd recognize it as his own he lost back on the field earlier. He's too busy keeping himself alive, leaning down to lay on his side. Sam can't risk a glance, already trying so hard to look formidable in front of the leviathan. He barely hides his worry.

It seems like an eternity before Dick starts backing away. "Well played Sam. I'm looking forward to seeing you again."

"You shouldn't," he replies darkly as he takes a step forward every time Dick takes one back. "Next time I'll have a way to kill you."

The last sentence is dark enough for Dick to feel a spark of nerves before he shakes it off. "We'll see." He turns around and walks away.

Sam crouches next to Dean, dropping his guns to turn his brother onto his back from where he had let himself fall to his side. "Dean_. Dean_."

"Ow. Easy Sam. Easy." He opens his eyes to see Sam's face drawn and pale. Then he notices Sam shaking. "Hey. It's alright Sammy. You did good. You did good bro. Not many have been able to make him nervous just from a threat of words." He pushes himself up, groaning lowly.

"Take it easy, Dean. God, I was so… When I found your gun I thought…"

"I'm fine, Sam. I'll be fine. C'mon. Help me up so we can get back to camp."

"Like hell." Sam reaches under Dean's shoulders and knees to lift him into his arms with a little struggle.

"Sam!"

"Shut up." His voice leaves no room for argument. Then he notices the line of men coming towards them. He tenses.

"Sam…" Dean moves to try to get down, but winces and stays still instead.

"Why didn't any of you try to help him?" Sam spits.

Mark answers, trying to calm him before he gets more worked up. His shoulders are still shaking and his white knuckled grip on Dean can be seen clenched around his brother's jeans and jacket. "We didn't know what to do," he says nervously. "We doubt he would have even given us a chance to talk like he did for you."

Sam doesn't stop shaking. Dean fears a meltdown. "Sam. C'mon. Les'go." His words start slurring.

Sam looks down in worry before he starts walking. "Where's the kit?"

"I have it," Drew replies as he jogs up. "Let's get him into the jeep."

Sam nods, walking quickly after Drew. "Just give me everything. I'll take care of it."

Drew doesn't argue.

After Sam gets Dean into the back seat of the jeep, he immediately goes to work. Shirt is pulled carefully over his brother's head after the jacket and de-arming him. It's with practiced precision that he threads the needle and goes to work on the huge, six-inch gash in his brother's side. Dean is conscious but has his eyes closed. He doesn't make a sound the whole time.

The drive is tense and silent. Drew driving, Mark in the passenger seat, and Sam and Dean in the back. They're back at camp in a little over an hour. Sam gets out and reaches back in an attempt to pick Dean up again but gets batted away. Sam frowns but relents. He's still trembling a little, but has mostly calmed down.

"Damnit, Sam! I can walk!" He struggles to reclaim the dignity that was taken when Sam picked him up in the middle of the freakin' battle field. Dean sways when he gets on his feet. He nods his thanks when Sam steadies him with a hand on his arm.

"Sorry."

And it's that voice. The quiet, shaky, child-like voice. It reminds Dean that Sam still isn't totally back to his full self. He winces to himself when he realizes how harsh he's being. He pats Sam's arm, keeping a hand on it as he starts walking them towards their cabin. "C'mon Sammy. I think we're done for the day, don't you?"

Sam nods, still standing tall but not looking around at anyone on their way. A mix between the Sam they saw on the field, and the Sam they've seen since the brothers got here. It gives them all pause to take it in. Some watch in curiosity as the brothers walk off. Others watch in awe. They can see the way Dean keeps Sam together. Calm. And they can see how Sam is keeping Dean from swaying more than he already is. Keeping him strong.

Mark clears his throat, getting most everyone's attention. "C'mon everyone. We have other things to attend to."

"That's Sam and Dean Winchester," someone speaks up.

Mark nods. "And they're recovering from a lifetime of crap right now so they'd appreciate it if you didn't treat them any differently than you have since they got here. Let them keep to themselves. Let them do as they please. Those two are always one step ahead of me anyway." He chuckles to himself. "And please. Don't try to understand any of it." He turns and walks away, letting whatever talk arises just be spoken. They'll never get it right anyway.

* * *

><p>Once the door to the cabin is closed behind them, Sam does what he always does when he feels secure. He lets go. Unfortunately for Dean, it's letting go of his hold on his fear. Which sends him pulling his brother tightly to him in an attempt to keep himself from falling apart.<p>

Dean grunts at the pain in his side, but doesn't try to move away. He even lets his arms go around him too. "Sam. I'm alright. Everything's fine."

"I found your gun. And I thought… thought I was alone. I can't do this alone. Can't hold myself together. Don't wanna be alone."

Dean closes his eyes, sighing before extracting himself from his brother's arms. "Sam." He looks up. "I'm not going to leave you alone. Okay? Besides, you aren't alone. You have an entire group of people here."

Sam looks him seriously in the eyes with that look that says '_I'm going to say something completely chick-flicky, but you still need to listen'_. "I can't hold myself together," he says quietly. "You help keep the nightmares away. You keep me sane when I feel like everything is crushing me under its weight. I wouldn't be able to survive long without you. So yeah. I'd be alone. 'Dead' wouldn't be far behind."

All of Dean's breath leaves in a sigh, his eyes closing. He reaches out and takes Sam's hand, lifting it up to push it against his chest, right over his heart. "You feel this?" He waits for Sam to nod. "The day this stops beating is the day _this_ does." He takes his own hand from where it was still on Sam's and pushes it against Sam's chest right over his heart. "Okay? The day mine stops beating is the day yours does first. You understand me?"

Sam nods. That kicked puppy look he took to the extreme when talking about seeing Lucifer takes over his face.

Dean nods too. The hand on Sam's chest changes to fist a handful of his shirt. "I won't leave you here alone."

Sam's hand fists too, anchoring him with Dean's shirt. "Please." The word grates out.

"I won't."

A nod.

"Can we sleep now? I'm in pain."

Sam nods, slowly releasing the hold he has on Dean's shirt, patting him once on the chest before walking over to the bed. "There's going to be talk," he says quietly.

Dean chuckles, carefully because of his side. "No doubt about that." He kicks off his boots before laying down, waiting until Sam is under too before pulling up the covers.

"Slipped. Called me Sam."

"We were in a situation. I could hardly care at the moment."

Sam chuckles. "Still your fault."

Dean kicks him. "Shut up."

Sam kicks back.

"Ow!"

"You started it."

"Well I'm ending it." He kicks again.

Sam looks over at him, leveling a glare. He kicks back. "Stop it."

"You stop it!" Dean kicks again.

Sam lets out a long-suffering sigh, eye roll to the ceiling and everything, before looking back at Dean. "Go to sleep."

Dean grins. "I win."

Sam rolls onto his side, putting his back to Dean. "Such a child."

"Says the one who said 'you started it'." Dean imitates Sam's voice.

Sam huffs. "Sleep."

"Whatever loser."

"You're the loser's brother."

Dean doesn't answer at first. Instead, he turns on his side too, giving Sam a light tap on the back with his fist. "Damn straight."

Sam smiles to himself.


	13. Chapter 12

**The only excuse I have for this taking so long is being tired and lazy. School is slowing down though thank goodness. So here's the next chapter. Sorry for the wait. And as always, thanks for the reviews. :)  
><strong>

**Ch. 12**

"Relax. I'm takin' it easy, Sammy."

Sam glares from where he sits on the back porch of their cabin.

"Shootin' isn't going to strain anything."

Sam glares.

"Your face is going to get stuck like that."

Sam sticks his tongue out at him.

Dean grins, chuckling as he turns to the cans he has lined up on a crumbled wall. He raises his gun, firing off six shots without pausing. Each can flies off the wall.

A low whistle sounds around the side of the cabin, a girl walking around the corner. "That was quite impressive."

Dean looks to Sam first to make sure his brother is comfortable before looking to the girl and smirking. "Well thank you. Sam and I are pretty good shots." He holds out his hand. "Dean." He waves over to Sam. "As I said, this is Sam."

"People call me Fox." The girl blinks as she shakes his hand. "Sam and Dean? Winchester?"

Dean chuckles. "Yeah."

"Huh. I've seen you guys around camp. Heard the stories about you guys after word spread around. Never put the two together."

Dean shrugs. "Understandable."

She suddenly frowns, looking to Sam. "You said he was a good shot?"

Sam makes himself look busy wiping his knife down, uncomfortable with the attention.

Dean smirks. "Best damn shot there is after me."

She looks back to him. "I've never even seen him use a gun."

Dean nods thoughtfully. Sam hasn't participated in the target runs they have every other day around camp. And even though Sam threatened Dick with the guns on the field that day, he never actually used them. "He's still one of the best. He just hasn't wanted to use one lately."

The girl nods, looking skeptical.

Dean grins. "How about we make a bet."

Sam's head jerks up.

Dean looks to him, seeing the movement from the corner of his eye. "Sorry, Sam. You okay with that? Just a few targets."

Sam tilts his head, thinking for a second. "Just a few."

Fox blinks, his tone washing over her to make her internally shiver with the combination of his eyes landing on her. No wonder he doesn't see the need to use guns.

Dean smiles. "Awesome." He looks to Fox. "In an hour. Have the target field set up. Ten targets. Five meter spread. Varying heights."

Fox nods, grin coming back after Sam releases her from the hold of his gaze. "You got it." She turns and heads around the side of the cabin.

Sam looks to Dean, an eyebrow raised.

Dean shrugs. "Any chance to brag on you and I'm in. Besides, I never turn down a good bet." He winks.

Sam rolls his eyes.

* * *

><p>"C'mon, Sam."<p>

Sam glares at him. "They're staring. And you can shoot just as good as me. Better."

"Fox went around camp telling people and I was bragging as I went to talk to Mark. They want to see if all of my bragging is true. They haven't even seen you pick up a gun besides the one you stash at your back and the two on the field you didn't even shoot. Now c'mon. I know this is a piece of cake for you. I have bets lined up with more than just Fox."

Sam raises his eyebrows.

Dean grins. "Pie. A rarity these days. I have a few guys betting their desert I've been exaggerating. Now let's go. Show these guys what a real sharp-shooter looks like."

Sam rolls his eyes, turning to the targets set up across the field. Ten of them. Different distances away though in the five meter spread Dean assigned. Different heights. His eyes move over them. "Using me to indulge in your pie addiction. You're a horrible brother."

"Yeah, yeah. It's a crime to say you're brother's awesome and bet on him when you know you'll win."

Sam grins.

The people behind them watch the two banter back and forth, voices too low for them to hear but they get the gist. They're a little shocked. It's the first time they've heard that playful tone in Sam's voice. They start to hold their breath when Sam raises his arm, anticipating the proof of Dean's claims about his brother.

It seems like it's over in a second, ten shots fired off without a single hitch in rhythm . Ten shots, equal intervals, not a single miss. And when walking up the field to look closer, right behind the two brothers, they all stare wide eyed at the targets. Every single one. Bullseye. Maybe off to the side, not exactly in the middle, but each bullet hole sits inside the black middle circle.

Dean looks up to Sam. "Perfect, little brother."

Fox watches from behind as Sam lets loose the sweetest smile she has ever seen grace Sam Winchester's face. And she's seen him with Dean around camp since they got here. Her breath catches, the beauty of it showing her who Sam used to be. It's a smile that could easily be called the most beautiful smile she has ever seen. Full of joy and pearly white teeth. She notices for the first time that he has dimples. She wonders why he isn't this way anymore.

Then she sees where the smile is aiming, and she comprehends. Sam still is that person. He probably still jokes. It's easy to see he can still smile. But only for Dean. She understands now why Dean never gave her the time of day earlier besides the bet. They live off each other. He only sees Sam. And Sam only sees Dean.

She shakes herself out of her awe before looking to Dean. "You jerk. I lost bets with five people because of you. You said he was one of the best, not perfect."

Dean looks to her, eyes flashing with something dangerous before she sees Sam's hand touch his arm. Then he just smirks. "You shouldn't ever bet against my brother," he warns.

Sam chuckles, making Fox shiver with the loss of his previous gentleness and the return of his more recognizable persona. She looks up to him to see his usual dark smirk in place.

He winks, the look both terrifying and almost sexy. Her body can't decide whether to shiver in fear or not.

Dean looks to Sam. "Alright, you're done. Sorry for making you do that." He holds out his hand for the gun.

Sam shrugs, looking down at the gun in his hand before handing it over. "Just been a while," he answers quietly.

"But you carry one on you all the time, don't you?" Drew asks.

Sam pulls out his knife, twirling it around and through his fingers with ease, no fear at all of cutting himself. It ends with the handle in the palm of his hand.

Dean chuckles. "Showoff." Then looks to Drew. "He likes having more control. A blade can give him that. An extension of himself."

Drew nods in understanding.

Dean looks to Sam. "Sam?"

Sam rolls his eyes, indulging Dean by turning and throwing the knife down the field to the first target he shot. It lands in the exact middle of the dark, middle circle.

Drew lets out a whistle.

Dean chuckles. "Alright. Now you can be done."

Sam grins, sauntering over to the target to get his knife. He's on his way back when he freezes, grin gone from his face so fast Dean isn't sure it was even there in the first place.

He instantly heads to Sam's side, eyes assessing his brother before scanning their entire surroundings. When his eyes follow Sam's gaze, his face darkens and he freezes at Sam's side. "Son of a- Hey! Hey, hey, hey! Easy, Sam!" Dean is suddenly struggling to hold his brother back as said brother attempts to claw his way around Dean to get to the two men now frozen at the front of the retreating crowd. It makes the cut on Dean's side burn, but he ignores it.

"They killed you! Me, I understand," he growls. "Starting the apocalypse and all. But they didn't need to shoot _you_." His fingers are digging into Dean's back, finally not trying to dislodge him but anchoring to him.

"Sam. Sammy. Hey, look at me." He reaches up, gripping Sam's chin to make his brother look to him instead of the two still watching them in part fear, part shock. "They had plenty reason to. They knew that after shooting you I wasn't going to stop until they were dead too. They knew killing me was smarter than letting me hunt them down. Besides, we're both back." He grins darkly. "Relax, Sammy," he almost croons, lowering his voice. "Don't kill them. We need as many men as we can get right now. But we can still shake them up a little." He winks darkly.

Sam lets loose a half grin before it disappears again and he looks over Dean's shoulder.

Dean untangles himself from his brother, turning to look at the two men he hasn't seen since that day in the motel room where they killed his baby brother before killing him too. After that trip to heaven, he was too concerned with other things to think about these two. But they were always there in the back of his mind on his to-do list if he ever met up with them again. Now, though, they need everyone they can get for this war. "Roy. Walt."

The crowd around the four figures has been forgotten. Most of them think they should probably leave, but this is something from the Winchester's past. Something no one knew about. They're curious. As well as entranced by the Winchesters.

Dean stands in front of Sam, shoulder blade touching Sam's chest much like they always stand. But there's an energy about them right now. This isn't the casual stance others have seen. And this isn't the Dean Winchester they've come to know. This Dean is as dark as Sam. Maybe even more dangerous with the cool anger he is able to contain. His voice when he said the two names was cold. Flat. Taking a page from Sam's book. This is the Winchester's on the same page. It's thrilling as well as terrifying.

One of the men clears his throat. "Dean."

"I'm surprised you even came to watch," Dean says lowly.

The other one speaks. "You two have been said to die and come back to life so many times, we wanted to see if it was really you."

Sam practically growls from behind Dean.

Dean reaches back to touch his arm. "I told you when I came back, I was gonna be pissed," he sneers. "That should have been enough warning to keep you from even being curious." He looks to one. "Especially you, Walt. Seeing as you're on the top of my list for being the one to shoot us both."

"You," Sam spits before he's trying to get at him again.

Both men take a quick step back in fear as Dean tries to get control of his brother again.

Mark comes up to help Dean, grunting as he gets an elbow in his ribs for his effort.

Dean looks to him, shaking his head.

There's a look of fear for Mark's safety intense enough to make him instantly let go, stepping back to watch as Dean eventually starts getting Sam's attention again.

"Sam. Stop it. Listen to me. Now isn't the time. Sammy, I need you to calm down." He winces when he feels a stitch pop. His side is healing, but it was deep enough that it could easily get ripped open again if Sam doesn't stop.

Sam does suddenly stop though, eyes locking onto Dean's when he sees the wince. He steps back, anger turning to panic as he lays a hand on Dean's side. "Sorry. I'm sorry."

Dean lets out a breathless chuckle, hand resting on Sam's chest over his heart as he shakes his head. "It's fine. Just relax okay. They won't hurt us anymore. And they've been off the hook this long. Just wait until this war is over."

"Then I can kill him?"

Dean blinks at the question, surprised at the eagerness and pleading in his voice. He shrugs it off though. Sam has a right. That man shot him. And Dean. This is revenge that is justified and the safest he's ever wanted. Besides, he'd want to kill the man himself if Sam didn't. He nods. "Then you can kill him."

Sam grins, eyes going back over to Walt.

The man shivers under his gaze.

Dean turns to them over his shoulder. "You guys better keep your distance. You show any signs of trouble and I won't hesitate to let Sam at you. It's been a long time since I've seen him like this. You best watch yourself."

Both men nod in understanding.

Dean turns to lead Sam away by his sleeve before he stops and turns around again. His eyes narrow as he looks to the men. "And by the way, since you didn't let him explain before, it was an accident. He didn't know it would start the apocalypse. And in case you didn't know, he gave his life to end it. If he had stayed dead after you shot him, we would have been doomed. Think about that one for a while." He turns around and walks away, Sam right behind him.

They ignore everyone else around them. Except one.

Drew keeps looking at Walt and Roy. Sam notices, seeing that Drew looks like he wants to kill them himself. It makes him smile a little. They've made a new friend. He separates himself from Dean, chuckling almost silently when Dean stops. He knows he's probably shocking his brother.

Drew looks to Sam in surprise when he sees him coming up to him.

Sam lays a hand on Drew's shoulder, almost encompassing it in his huge grip. "It's good to have a friend," he murmurs, voice softer than Drew has ever heard it. "But don't trouble yourself with anything from our lives."

Drew shrugs, a little sheepish. "It just made me mad."

Sam pats him on the shoulder before turning and walking back to Dean. Dean gives him an approving look before they start off again.

* * *

><p><strong>Is anyone else upset that we didn't get to see Sam and Dean hunting down Walt and Roy? I would have loved to see that after they killed the boys. I know that at the end of 'Dark Side of the Moon' they were a little preoccupied, but that's still one little part of the plot they need to fix. Even if it is a couple seasons late. They should run into them again or something.<strong>


	14. Chapter 13

**I keep telling myself I'll update sooner. I never do. But classes are almost done. This chapter is longer though. Should make up for the wait. :) Back to another flashback chapter.  
><strong>

**Ch. 13**

One month ago.

"Alright. She's locked up and safe." Dean sighs, turning to Sam. "I guess it's time to leave Baby behind.

Sam pats him on the back.

Dean gives him a sad smile. "I know. But it still sucks."

Sam nods in agreement.

"C'mon. We have a while to meet Mark, but I want to take our time. Hurrying sucks. Besides, I've never walked across states before."

"We could drive, you know?"

Dean rolls his eyes. "Until we run out of gas."

"New car."

"Let's walk, Sammy. This is a post-apocalyptic world."

Sam chuckles. "Dramatic."

"Am not. It's true."

"No apocalypse."

Dean shrugs. "Maybe not, but it's starting to look like there was."

Walking through the town and looking at the ruins and scorch marks on buildings where a fire had worked its way through, Sam has to agree. "Little bit."

"Oh please. I'm right and you know it."

"Only a bit."

"Always."

"Nope."

"I'm the older brother. I'm always right."

Sam snorts.

Dean glares at him. "Bitch."

Sam rolls his eyes. "Jerk."

"Hey!"

The brother's stop, spurting into action a second later in an instinctive move for protection. Back to back, they both look to the three men who walk up to them, guns in their hands. Dean's eyes narrow, assessing them even as he tries to make peace. "Easy, boys. Just passing through. Not looking for any trouble."

Sam is more comfortable with the situation than he thought he'd be. It helps to have the solid weight of Dean's back against his as they press against each other and outwardly face their confronters. He holds his knife on one hand, his other hand ready to grab his other knife from his boot at the signal from Dean.

Dean has his gun out, though he keeps it low and unthreatening. For now. "What seems to be the problem?"

One of the men steps forward. "The supplies in this town are wiped out. You two seem to have quite a bit there."

Dean tenses. Great. Things out here seem to be worse than he thought if supplies are already disappearing. "Now, now. We found these fair and square. We're going to be traveling for a long time. We need the assurance of extra supplies."

A second man steps forward, cocking his gun. "Surely you don't need _all_ of them."

Dean tenses, gun tight in his grip. "If you put the guns away, I can tell you where you can find your own. It's only a couple days walk from here. We drove it in one."

"In what?" the third man sneers.

"A truck," Dean lies. "Ran out of gas a few miles back."

The second man, who had cocked his gun, steps forward again. "We don't have a couple days. We're starving now." He raises his gun to aim at Sam's head. "Just give us one of those backpacks, and your boy here lives."

Sam feels Dean stiffen at his back. He almost grins. This is going to be good.

Dean fingers the trigger of his gun, raising it a little higher. His eyes lock on the man, unwavering and filled with the promise of death. "Put. The gun. Down."

The man is oblivious. The idiot. "Or what? You'll shoot me? He'll be dead before you even raise your gun."

Dean's eyes narrow. "You've got three seconds. One."

The man rolls his eyes.

"Two."

He goes to aim at Sam's head, finger just starting to put pressure on the trigger.

Dean fires. Three shots. One and a half seconds at the most. All three men drop to the ground. "Three."

Sam looks to him in amusement. "You could have just shot him in the hand."

Dean looks to him, eyes still flinty. "He threatened you. That's punishable by death."

Sam chuckles, hand closing over Dean's shoulder before he puts his knife away.

"Besides," Dean continues, "I probably did them a favor. It seemed like they were going a little crazy."

Sam nods. "Losing it."

Dean assesses his brother. "You alright?"

Sam nods.

"No jitters or nothing? Still here with me?"

Sam rolls his eyes, patting his brother's arm in reassurance.

"Just making sure. I need you sharp out here, Sammy."

Sam smiles softly to himself. It's funny how Dean still can't admit to just loving his brother. Always using the excuse that Sam needs to have his back.

"Well… I'm glad our place is back in the woods. And we locked it up pretty tight too."

Sam nods. Then stops walking. He looks incredulously to Dean. "Go back?"

Dean hears the full question loud and clear. 'We're going back after this whole thing is over? Living the simple life? No monsters?' He gives Sam a crooked grin. "What can I say, I like the place. Besides, I'm ready for retirement _now_. Wait until we're done with this whole war thing. I'll be ready to die in peace."

Sam lets loose a brilliant smile, bounding over the two feet separating them to crush Dean to his chest in a tight hug.

"Sam!" He flails. "Let me go, Sasquatch!"

Sam chuckles warmly, letting go after another quick second and tight squeeze.

Dean dramatically brushes himself off, giving his brother a dirty look as Sam keeps giving him that same bright smile. "Wipe that smile off your face. You're giving me the creeps. Where'd 'doom and gloom' go? I liked him. Less 'grabby hands'."

Sam sticks his tongue out at him.

"Very mature."

Sam keeps grinning.

Dean shakes his head, turning away before his own smile can take over his face. This is the first time Sam has smiled for this long in a very long time. "C'mon Francis, daylight's awaistin'."

Sam gives him a shove in the shoulder, replacing his bitch face since Dean doesn't turn around to see it.

* * *

><p>"Easy. Breath with me. C'mon."<p>

Sam matches his breathing with the rhythm of his brother's, his back pressed tightly to his chest. He closes his eyes.

"Relax. I won't pretend to know what's going on inside your freaky head, but we need to fix this now before something happens where you need to protect yourself. Okay?"

Sam nods, eyes still closed. He's focused on the press and retreat of his brother's chest against his back.

"Alright. Open your eyes. Aim. Keep steady. I'm right here."

He does. Vision centering on the target Dean made for him on an old fence. He steadies his hand. Aims. Fires. Misses. A weird wine makes its way out of his throat.

"Hey, it's okay. I know you've never missed that far in your life. We're just getting you used to this again. Control, remember. Like your knives. Just because it separates from your body, doesn't mean it can't be a part of you anymore."

Something clicks in Sam's mind with that. Like Dean. When Dean stops touching him, he's still a part of him. They still work flawlessly together. Extension. Just not attached. Not like his knives. Like a gun. Dean's like his gun. He aims again. Fires. A new hole appears an inch away from the bullseye.

Dean grins, tightening his hands on his brother's shoulders in a praising grip. "Perfect, little brother."

Sam looks over his shoulder, giving him a bright smile before turning back. He fires off two more shots. The second makes the bullseye. Not perfectly in the middle like Dean can. But good enough to fend anything off.

Dean grins, patting Sam's back as he steps away from where he had himself right behind him for a little more comfort. He knew it'd be easier to help if he were right there with his brother, rather than feet away. "See. I knew you could do it."

"You seem to know more than I do about what I can do."

Dean smiles. "I have faith in you, Sammy. You need to get some of that."

Sam nods, looking down at the gun in his hands. "Guns wouldn't work."

Dean blinks, breath catching when he realizes Sam is telling him something about hell. He doesn't say anything. Waits it out.

Sam continues after a minute or so. "It was only when I managed to get a knife away from him that I was able to hack away like he would to me."

Dean cringes, glad Sam isn't looking at him to see his reaction.

Sam is turning the gun in his hands. Seemingly studying it. "I had no control when I was able to get guns away. And it shocked him enough every time that it took him a while to make it disappear. But it wasn't illusions down there. He was able to create real things. When I could, I grabbed real weapons. It always gave me a minute of satisfaction when I could hurt him back. Before he started in on me again for punishment."

Dean flinches. He forces himself to stay where he is until Sam's done. Doesn't want to break whatever it is that's helping Sam talk this out. He wants to be able to help.

"But guns never worked. He was able to vanish to somewhere else before the bullet hit him. It was when I had a blade in my hand that I was able to get at him. Grab him. Cut off his wings." A bloodthirsty edge creeps into his voice. "Sometimes I was able to get to Michael too. But then Lucifer would hurt me more. So I mostly targeted him." He finally turns to look at Dean, eyes dark.

Dean takes this as his chance to move forward.

"I was able to cut both of his wings off once," he says with a purely satisfied grin. "The way he cut into me after was so worth it. It takes _months_ for them to grow back."

Dean has to keep from shivering at the tone of his brother's voice. The 'Lucifer echo' is starting to make its way in, but if Dean shows any discomfort with Sam sharing what went on, he might close up. "Easy, Sammy. You're here now. I won't let anything hurt you ever again." He slowly reaches out to take the gun still in Sam's hands, easing it gently away.

Sam looks down like he's shocked he's still holding the gun. He releases it instantly, almost jumping back from it. He looks to Dean, eyes wide. The windows to his soul are wide open, emotions like a hurricane swirling inside. Fear, pain, anger, desperation.

Dean drops the gun on the ground, pulling Sam into his arms as his 'Sam the killer' side melts away and he becomes Dean's little brother again, just pleading for him to make it all better. "Shhh, Sammy. I'm right here. I'm right here. It's okay."

The sobs are silent. A small snub to Lucifer. But he can't hold back the tears. He just clings to Dean, knowing his big brother can make it all better.

"God, I am so proud of you. Hurting him for what he did to you." He tightens his arms when he feels Sam tremble. "Easy, Sammy. Sammy."

Sam relaxes at the nickname, peace washing over him with his brother's low timber. He soaks in the sound, reveling in the _Sammy, Sammy_ being whispered in his ear. "Dean." He breathes the name into his brother's neck.

"Sam." He runs his fingers through Sam's hair. "You're alright. I'm here."

Sam takes a deep breath, suddenly pulling away and trying to compose himself again. He wipes away his tears and runs a hand through his hair, not looking at Dean as he gets his breathing back under control. Just whispers a quiet, "Sorry."

Dean rolls his eyes, shaking his head. "Now c'mon. Don't do that. Come here." He pulls Sam back, giving him a normal hug this time, not a clinging one. "I keep telling you I'm fine with this. Just believe me. Okay?"

Sam eventually relaxes into the hug, bringing his arms around Dean too. He lets out a sigh. "Thanks."

Dean's quiet, just waiting a few more seconds before giving his brother's shoulders a last squeeze before letting go and stepping back. "You alright now?"

Sam nods. He gives Dean a small smile.

Dean smiles back. Smiles are good. Dimples are better, but it doesn't look like those are coming back for a while. Sam's almost content now, but not happy. He can work with that. "Alright. Let's get moving. The way things are cleared out around here makes me think we might have a settlement somewhere nearby."

Sam nods.

"You okay with that? We can stay on our own if you want."

"Settlements are safer."

Dean nods. "Okay. But if you want to leave you just tell me."

"Okay." He links his finger in Dean's sleeve.

* * *

><p>It's a good five hours before they come across the first signs of a big group of people. Dean's limp is starting to creep up on him. The hints of civilization are traps set up. Fences. Gates. Lucky for the brothers the traps are easy to see for them and they follow the fence around the perimeter, knowing there's probably a front gate somewhere. They find it, open but guarded by a few men.<p>

Dean walks up, feeling Sam's finger link onto his sleeve again. "Easy, Sammy," he murmurs quietly. He pulls on his old Dean Winchester persona. The one that hasn't softened for Sam. "Hey guys."

One of the men ambles over, totally at ease. "You looking for a safe place?"

"Just for a day or two. Me and my brother are on our way east."

"Not exactly the safest way."

Dean shrugs. "We have our reasons."

The man snorts. "Don't we all." He nods back towards the gate. "C'mon. We have plenty of room here."

Dean frowns. These people don't know how to check for leviathans… "Don't you want to make sure we aren't one of the bad guys?"

"We do," one of the other men at the gate says, suddenly stepping forward to grab Dean's hand and pull his arm out to give him a quick cut right above his wrist. He nods when he sees it's red, taking a step towards Sam.

Dean's hand shoots out, gripping the man's wrist in a bruising grip.

The man winces as his bones grind together, hand almost opening to drop the knife. He grunts, looking to Dean.

His gaze is cold. "Don't. Touch him." He shoves the man away, pulling out his own knife. "I'll do it."

Everyone watches him with both wary and confused looks as he turns to Sam and asks him with his eyes if he's okay.

Sam hadn't even taken a step back when the man had turned towards him. He knew Dean would interfere. He's glad. He doesn't think he'd be able to handle someone else coming at him with a blade right now. He meets Dean's eyes, holding out his arm and mentally reassuring his brother that he's fine. He barely even flinches when the knife cuts him. He notices Dean makes it only about an inch long. As little as possible.

Dean turns to them, holding out his brother's arm to show the red. When he gets a nod from the man who came out to meet him, he continues inside the settlement. "Next time," he growls, "_ask_ the person to show you themselves _outside_ the gate before you ambush them."

They keep to themselves, observing everyone and what life is like here.

Everyone seems to give them a wide berth. No one tries to talk to Sam. Dean makes the deals with the suppliers. Sam stands back at Dean's shoulder or waits in eyesight nearby to look at something or someone. He's nervous, but his curiosity is stronger, Dean observes proudly.

When Dean is finishing up and about ready to head out and find a room to stay in, he turns around to look for Sam. He finds him and, as he's walking over, he pauses. Sam is watching kids playing with a ball in the street. And there's a little girl, a cute little thing with light brown hair and one of those adorable noses, maybe about three or four years old who can't keep up with the other kids. Sam's gaze is on her, face a mix of adoration and pity.

The kids run by, the little girl following behind. She runs right on the edge of the road in front of Sam, tripping on a dip in the cement and starts to fall.

Dean is already smiling before the girl even trips because Sam sees the dip. He knows. He's already crouching down and reaching out as the girl starts falling. She never hits the ground, though her knee does get a little scraped up. Sam saves her from a lot of pain. Dean notices a lot of the adults tense up when they see Sam reaching for the girl. They're all watching with baited breath to see what he'll do. Dean smiles. Sam is about to show them how much of a gentle giant he can be when he lets his walls down.

The girl squeaks as she trips, and does again when Sam catches her. She whimpers when her knee drags across the ground before Sam can stop it, but even as her eyes fill with tears, she looks to Sam as he sets her back on her feet. Dean can't hear what he's saying. He doesn't think anyone can. His brother is murmuring to her as he's pulling a tissue from the stash Dean knows he has in his pocket and wipes her knee off, his other hand still holding one of the girl's hands.

The girl nods at whatever he's saying, already trying to stop crying.

Sam folds up the tissue, using the clean part to reach up and wipe the tears off her face. He says something else that makes her smile. He smiles back, bright and pure, something Dean's only ever seen when Sam looks at him. Sometimes, very rarely, Dean wishes he had a camera. This is one of those times. It's actually beautiful, Sam's big form crouched so he can be almost eye level with the little girl and one of his huge hands holding her tiny one as he wipes her tears away.

When he's done, Sam says something else that makes the girl smile. Then she jumps at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Sam blinks in surprise before he slowly returns the hug, a smile spreading across his face. Everyone around watches in shock. The girl leans back to kiss Sam on the cheek, making his smile wider. He runs a hand through her hair when she pulls back, telling her one more thing that makes her giggle before he nudges her the way the other children had gone.

Dean realizes with a jolt of certainty, that this is what Sam would have been like with a daughter. He feels a hole in his gut as he thinks of how Sam will never have that. But he feels better when Sam immediately looks for him and gives him one of those smiles brighter than the sun, dimples and all, when he sees him. Like a little kid, asking _'See what I did?_'

He smiles back. _Yeah I saw_. He walks over, patting Sam on the back when his brother stands back to his towering height. "C'mon. Time to find a place to sleep." They both ignore everyone's questioning and awed looks as they walk away.


	15. Chapter 14

**Warning for a few words I don't personally use but I'm sure the boys would. Sorry again for the wait. The light at the tunnel is getting closer though. Classes are almost done.  
><strong>

**Ch. 14**

Present

It's dark when the screams start. When the fire starts spreading. The smoke almost unknowingly slithering through buildings and choking out the oxygen from the air. It drives everyone from the camp. It spreads fast. Silhouettes are flashing across buildings. Voices call through the air.

No one makes it far from the camp. The screams eventually stop. The camp burns to the ground. It's left empty. Except a few corpses. No one from the camp is left to tell.

* * *

><p>"C'mon Sammy, wake up."<p>

Sam grunts, slowly pushing himself up from his pillow, looking to glare at Dean.

Dean chuckles, the glare Sam is trying to pull tainted with cuteness by the pillow creases along the side of his face and the disheveled hair. Not that he'd ever say that out loud. It's just the only way he's able to describe it. "Sorry, Sam but Mark just came by. Said a meeting was called. Had something big go down last night."

That gets Sam up, a head tilt aimed at Dean.

"I have no idea. Meeting is in five minutes. Let's go, lazy."

Sam only glares, a little more effectively this time.

They walk into the 'Walmart' as Dean has come to calling it, even though they have no idea what store it used to be since it's burned so bad, five minutes later. They stand in the back of the room. All the groups are mixed together right now. Something Dean and Sam haven't seen happen since they got here a month ago.

The leaders are all up front, already giving the story. From what they've gathered, there was an attack on a settlement about two hundred miles away. No one left that survived, but someone was traveling through the area, saw the fire and came to tell them. They're speculating on natural causes verses the leviathans.

Dean looks to Sam.

Sam nods.

They make their way around the crowd at the walls of the building, going up to Mark where he's sitting at the top of the stairs leading to the makeshift stage they have. Drake is talking now, telling of how they're going to see if they can find out where the leviathans are and if they had taken the people, or just killed them. If they were a part of this at all. Sam frowns, looking to Dean again and getting a nod in return.

Dean gets Mark's attention, who comes down the stairs. "What's up?"

"You don't have all the information possible here."

Mark frowns. "What do you mean?"

"Who told you all this? He hasn't told you everything."

Sky comes up behind mark. "What's going on here?"

Mark turns to Sky. "Where's Charlie?"

"Still in the lockdown cabin. Figured it'd be best until we had everyone on the same page. Why?"

Mark nods towards Sam and Dean. "I think these guys should see him."

Sky blinks before glaring at Mark. "Why?"

Mark looks to him. "Because they know things. And they somehow know he isn't telling us everything."

Sky wrinkles his nose. "Somehow."

Mark sighs.

Sky sighs too, in answer. "Alright. C'mon."

Sam and Dean nod their thanks to Mark before following Sky. Mark follows them, curious. They all walk into the cabin when Sky unlocks it, the two leaders leaning against the wall to watch as Sam and Dean casually amble up to Charlie, Dean taking care to make sure his limp is hidden. Something he's done as much as possible when out and about in the camp though he pays for it when he tries to relax in the cabin.

"So, Charlie."

The man looks up at Sam and Dean, apprehension and confusion evident in his face. "Yeah?" he asks when Dean waits for a reply.

"What are you leaving out?"

Charlie blinks. "Leaving out?"

Sam hums deep in his throat, the sound coming out more as a growl than anything.

"You saw the fire. What else did you see? There's never a random fire anymore. People are too careful anymore. And in the middle of the night, everyone disappearing, what are the odds, right?"

Charlie seems to sink in his chair.

"That's what I thought."

"Tell the rest," Sam rumbles.

Charlie's eyes snap to Sam, a small spark of fear making him almost flinch back at his icy tone and low voice. He's a good foot shorter than him. An intimidating difference when the man is already built like a friggin' moose. "Tire tracks," he finally answers.

"What kind?" Dean snaps.

"Like… eighteen wheeler tracks. The big ones. Shipping trucks."

Dean looks to Sam.

Sam nods, making a motion with his hand.

Dean leans over to put his hands on the table between him and Charlie. "Did you see anything else, Charlie? I can start breaking limbs. Not necessarily fingers."

Behind them, Sky looks to Mark with trepidation. Mark waves it off.

Charlie swallows audibly. "I didn't see anything else."

"Where were the tracks headed?"

"Southeast I think. I had to duck when I saw them going by me a few miles out of the settlement that burned."

"How many?"

"I don't know, maybe four?"

Dean's eyes narrow. "Why didn't you tell them this before?"

Charlie fidgets. "I didn't want to have to show you the way. I want to get as far away from them as possible. Not follow them."

Dean looks over his shoulder to Mark, who nods. He chuckles. "We have maps, you know. And really good trackers. But since you thought you'd be clever, you've just bought yourself a passenger seat in the leading truck out of here."

Charlie looks to the two leaders behind Dean, eyes wide. "But…"

Sky snorts. "You would have given us faulty information that could have kept us from possibly saving some of those people. You're cowardice needs to be addressed. It won't do you any good in a world like this."

Charlie falls back in his chair, letting out a breath and a curse in one.

Dean and Sam go back over to Sky and Mark. "Sounds like the leviathans did another round up. We need to find out which base of theirs they took them to. We might be able to save some if we move fast. If anything, we can burn the place."

Mark looks to Sky. "What do you think?"

Sky nods. "We've been training pretty steadily and between recruiting and the learning curve, I think we're set for another strike." He looks to Dean. "Thanks for the help."

Dean shrugs. "Me an' Sam just had a situation like this happen before. We knew it had to be more than just a fire."

Mark leads them out, Sky locking the door of the cabin behind them. "Charlie will stay here while we plan. We should be ready to roll within thirty-six hours."

Dean nods. "We'll be ready. Let us know if you need anything."

Mark chuckles. "I will." He looks to Sky. "Let's get things rolling."

As the two leaders walk into the meeting building to find the other leaders, Sam and Dean stop outside. Dean looks to Sam. "I'm not sure if you should come with us, Sam."

Sam's head whips around to look at him, a glare that could kill drilling right into Dean. "What?" he growls.

"The last time we had to be in the middle of fire you freaked."

Sam grits his teeth. "I'm fine now."

Dean sighs. "You don't know that."

"The hell I don't," he hisses. "No more nightmares, no more flinching, no more _hell._"

Dean shakes his head, angry. "That isn't proof! Other than the attack on the other post you had the showdown with Dick at, we haven't _done_ anything. You don't know what will happen when you're faced with fire again."

"I'm not a child, Dean! You can't keep telling me what I can and can't do or what I know! You aren't in my head!"

"But I _know_ you and I don't want you to push yourself!"

"You do the exact same thing to yourself!" Sam spits.

"I'm not as injured as you are!" Dean shoots back, taking a step towards Sam.

"I'm not injured! I'm dealing! And I'm getting better!"

"You call _shaking_ after your confrontation with Roman _better_?"

Sam stumbles back at the vehement hit to what he saw as praise when Dean was comforting him after the incident. He clears his face of all emotion but anger as he practically growls, fists clenching. "Fuck you."

Dean's eyes narrow. "No, Sam. Fuck you. I'm just trying to make sure you have more time to heal!"

"I know when I need more time, Dean! You don't know everything about me!"

And boy, Sam knew that would be a hit. With Dean watching over him since their defeat at the city fire, Dean had taken it upon himself to make sure he knew exactly how Sam was doing. He takes a threatening step forward. "The _hell_ I don't! I know _every_ fucking thing about you, Sam! _I'm_ the one that's made sure I was right there when things were going wrong! I made sure I had a hold on how you were feeling _every_ minute of _every_ day so I could be there for you if you had a moment!"

Sam looks down his nose at Dean through the two feet of separation, eyes angry. "Like that time you carelessly walked away from me in that store?" he hisses, voice wrecked from all the yelling and even more coarse in his angry words.

Dean can't stop himself from sucking in a breath of shock, hurt spilling through his body to make his fist come up and land a bone-jarring punch to Sam's jaw. He keeps himself from feeling sorry for his brother as said brother stumbles back, hand over his jaw. "Don't you _ever _fucking say I was careless towards you," he hisses.

Sam turns back towards him, eyes alight with furry. Then he kind of explodes.

Both of them have been perfect with each other for the better part of a year now. Little bits of annoyance added to the stress and worry over each other builds up over time. Honestly, they're both surprised this hasn't happened before now. Now, though, there's no thought to anything else as they fight with each other with an intensity that hasn't been matched since the fight over Ruby the day Sam left to let the Devil out of his cage.

They aren't careful with each other. They don't hesitate in going for weak spots. Sam knows Dean's leg and Dean knows Sam's back. Though it's almost done healing now, it's always a little sensitive. They fight dirty because they know they can. They don't give each other an inch. It's dirty and vicious and totally uncalled for, considering. But that's just how they've always been.

They roll around on the ground when they're down, they punch each other when they're up. Words have been lost to grunts and growls. They're down to the basics. They've always been able to communicate without words. They yell with punches, punctuate with bruises, underline with cuts, and end the sentence with a grunt or growl. It's a language that doesn't need to be translated to be understood by either. They're just angry right now.

It goes on for who knows how long. When one finally shoves the other away and they're too tired to jump right back in, they just stand where they stop. Chests heave as lungs burn, eyes still flinty and bodies now covered in dirt. Dean has a small trail of blood running down his temple from where his head had hit the ground. Sam's lip is cut and bleeding from Dean's punches. Bruises are slowly showing up. Various cuts line their arms from sticks and rocks on the ground. They still just stand where they are, breathing at each other.

There's a crowd gathered loosely around them. Most aren't sure what to think if they aren't already shocked or awed. Others are thinking too much and confusing themselves with what this could be about. Mark is in the loose circle with Crow and Drake. All three let the two brother's work things out mentally between them. Mark is the only one who doesn't doubt that they could do this all over again in a second, even as tired as they are. He hopes they give each other a break though. Drew is also in the crowd, standing next to Mark, mouth catching flies.

Dean is the one to finally move, sending a sneer Sam's way as he turns and walks away, the opposite direction from their cabin, limp more evident than it's been since they showed up.

Sam grits his teeth but doesn't make a sound. He only watches him go for a second before he turns and heads towards their cabin, suspiciously rolling a shoulder as if it were hurting. Possibly pulled at a bad angle, considering some of the moves they pulled on each other.

It's the farthest apart anyone has ever seen the Winchesters since they got here.

A guy next to Drew turns to him, eyes wide and a grin pulling over his face. "That was the most epic fight ever!"

Drew glares at him, making the guy shrink back, as he walks away.


	16. Chapter 15

**Just a 5 day gap! :) I'm so proud of myself. **

**As always, thanks to all those who have reviewed. Here's the next chapter.  
><strong>

**Ch. 15**

"So… do I really need to tell you that was pointless?"

Dean only snorts in answer, not turning from the remains of a wooden fence he's sitting on, the total opposite side of the camp from Sam.

Mark walks up to him, leaning over the fence to rest his arms on the top a foot away from Dean's legs. "We let fights happen here as long as it's one on one just to let them get it out of their system. Then we sit them down and see if there's something we can do about it. With you two though, I'm not sure we'd fully grasp it. I just figured I'd come see if I could help."

"Sorry if I messed up your rules around here," Dean says, sounding genuine.

"Nah. As I said, when you have a camp of mostly men, all armed to the teeth with anger and pent up frustration from not being able to do anything, tensions run high. And not everyone can get along. We allow fair fights. Crow was actually in the Air Force, you know?"

Dean huffs. "No kidding?"

"That's why we call him Crow. One of his buddies had nicknamed him that. Sky is an ex-army man too. Anyway, Crow never was one to follow the rules. Got into his fair share of fights that got him in trouble when he was in the Air Force. Established as we set this place up, that it helped to get it all out. We set up rules, but figured with training and everything fighting is just a good practice run." He chuckles when Dean snorts in amusement. "So… now that you have it all out, what's up?"

Dean sighs. "Just like Bobby. You won't let anything go will you?"

Mark looks to him, smiling softly. "He was a smart one."

Dean nods too, not looking to him. He huffs again. "We've always been on the same wavelength, Sam and I. For a lot of things. The only times we weren't was on the big things. But when it came down to the basics? He was right there with me."

Mark nods though he knows Dean won't see it.

"It was hard having to change to help him," he murmurs. "I had to go against things I grew up hearing from Dad like the touchy feely stuff. I had to make sure I never left him alone if he seemed shaky and make sure he knew I was there at all times or he would panic. It got better. So much better, but it's hard to pull out of that now."

Mark nods. "It's hard to let your kid grow up and go out on their own."

Dean smirks. "That's a perfect analogy." His smirk leaves. "It was the comment about me being careless that got to me. It's been a long time since he's deliberately tried to hurt me. I didn't really think about it before my fist was colliding with his face. And then he came back at me. And I know that was my fault too because he was just mad at me for hurting him back."

Mark hums in agreement.

"We've become soft with each other," he admits. "Not necessarily with anyone else, but with each other, we're very touchy about what we say. More than we used to be. We want to be in each other's good graces usually. But the kid has always known how to push my buttons."

Mark chuckles. "Little brother skill."

Dean nods, almost smiling. "He had it. Still does. He knew how to get a rise at me. And I think I know why he did it."

"Why?"

"He wanted to prove he was getting better. Wanted me to see that he could not flinch back from a punch. That he could deal it all right back. Even when sparring, he knew I was careful. He also knew that if he got me mad enough, I'd forget to be careful. And he stopped being careful too. He was trying to prove that it's time for me to let him come back to himself. He's read to stop looking to me to make it better."

"He won't, you know?"

Dean looks down to Mark, frowning. "Won't what?"

"Won't stop looking to you. He'll always need you, Dean. No need to worry about that. Let him be himself again. I see that you miss it sometimes. I've only met you guys twice before, but I could see that you liked teasing your brother about the things you teased. You liked being able to relax with him. Just be brothers. Let him be that again. He's getting better. By leaps and bounds."

Dean nods. "I know," he murmurs.

"If he says he's ready for something, I'm sure he is. His nervousness is way down, even if he does keep himself separated from everyone."

Dean nods again. "I know."

"You usually think things through this thoroughly? Seems like you actually think about what Sam was trying to say."

Dean shrugs. "Don't usually talk it out with anyone, but I do think about things. It usually takes me a day or two to get back to him on it. Tell him he's right or tell him I'm not changing my mind. But yeah. I think about it once I'm away and not angry or annoyed anymore." He chuckles. "It would save a lot of trouble if I could think about it at the time it's brought up."

Mark smiles. "Nah. Then where'd the self-realization be then?"

"Alright, Yoda."

Mark chuckles. "I'll leave you alone now. Just wanted to make sure we wouldn't have two serial killers mad at each other in our camp."

Dean chuckles. "We aren't that bad, are we?"

"You do stir up a lot of rumors about what your secret side-occupation could be."

Dean full out laughs now.

"Don't ignore your brother," Mark ends with.

Dean looks to him, face going serious. "I won't leave him alone," he answers knowingly. Even if he was still mad, he's not cruel enough to leave his brother to sleep alone tonight when that hasn't happened in the better part of a year.

* * *

><p>"You do know he's just worried, right?"<p>

Sam doesn't look up from his hand. He has a speculative look on his face.

Drew sighs. "Sam."

Sam's eyes dart up to him. "I know," he murmurs. He takes one last look at his cards before laying the hand down, face down. He was losing anyway. And wouldn't that have been embarrassing. He and Dean played a ton in the cabin. He was actually quite good. This game was just plain bad luck.

Drew had come in and tossed the deck of cards at him, making him move quickly to snatch them out of the air. He'd looked at them, shrugged, and motioned to the table in the middle of their cabin. Even though they've talked… well,_ communicated_ more recently, he didn't know what made Drew brave enough to come into his cabin without asking, but he thought it had something to do with just wanting to be here after seeing the blowout between him and his brother. He was right. Though he and Drew haven't really hung out much, it's easy to see he's a genuinely nice guy and wants to be his friend. They've already played quite a few games of cards tonight.

"Remember what I said the other week?"

Drew sighs. "I'm not getting into your problems with other people. I'm in with you two. I just want to make sure you know that he had a decent argument too."

Sam frowns. "How long were you there?"

Drew grimaces. "Almost from the beginning I think. I figured it wasn't my business so I stayed out of it."

Sam raises an eyebrow.

Drew shrugs guiltily and seems a little hesitant now.

Sam tries to soften his face more. No need to scare the poor guy when he's just trying to be a friend. "Just want him off my back."

Drew frowns. "I've never seen him overly protective of you like I did today. Don't you think you were a little hard on him? He's really worried. Whatever happened with the last fire obviously shook him up too."

Sam glares at the table.

"You were pretty harsh with that careless comment."

Sam grimaces now, looking up. "I know," he murmurs. "Didn't mean it."

Drew sighs, falling back in his chair. "From what I've seen, Dean has never been 'on your back'. He's just used to watching over you. And you're branching away again."

Sam nods. Then looks away again, towards their pushed together beds. "Not much."

Drew shrugs. "He's just worried still. Give him time."

"Why do you care so much?" Sam asks, genuinely curious. His voice is a little less rough with the softness of the question.

Drew shrugs, looking almost shyly away. "Had the same problem with my mom. Now I just wish I had a mom."

Sam nods, looking away again. He understands.

"Don't let anger get in the way. We're going on the mission tomorrow."

Sam nods. "Won't." There's a new grit to his voice now, Drew notices. Determination?

Drew stands, gathering his cards.

They hear footsteps on the front porch, the door opening a few seconds later to Dean coming in and letting the door fall closed behind him. He gives Drew a curious look, eyebrow raised in question.

Drew waves a little, warily. "Hi." He's gotten more used to Sam than Dean. Connecting with that part of Sam he sees the softness in. Dean is a little more rough around the edges. Besides, when both of them are in the same room, they're a bigger presence. Something just shifts in the air. It makes Drew feel like he doesn't quite fit in the works here. "Just playing a few games of cards."

Dean nods. "Always good to have cards around."

Drew nods, giving Sam an encouraging smile before turning and heading out.

Sam thinks to himself. Their cards are…

"On the table in the kitchen still. Didn't think to bring them," Dean answers, detached but seeing Sam's thoughtful look he decided to help fill in the blank.

Sam nods once, walking over to their beds while shedding his over shirt.

Dean still sleeps next to him just in case. Doesn't mean they talk to each other. And they've never slept so far apart in the same space before. They both have thought about the other's points. That doesn't mean they're ready to give up their anger and talk yet.

* * *

><p>He and Sam took separate ways. He doesn't like it. At all. But Sam left with the group Mark indicated. Dean stayed with his. He's not sure if it was Sam going to spite him, or Mark doing it to prove a point. He still doesn't like it. What if Sam needs him?<p>

"He'll be fine," Drew hisses, rolling his eyes. "He's a big boy."

Dean snorts but doesn't comment. They're moving in on their destination. Scouts sent ahead a few hours ago came back to report that the humans brought here were already compromised. Either dead or brain dead by now from means they're still trying to figure out. So they're moving in. Blowing up the joint.

After the go ahead from their group leader, everyone moves in under the cover of a barrage of gunfire on the other side of the building. The base here is in a crumbling city. Not much to it really. Blowing it up will be a cinch. It's getting to the deep supports inside that is the problem. It's Crow's small group that's handling that.

Dean and Drew in their group of five other people have to place explosives around the perimeter in case of an escape attempt by any leviathan. They want to experiment on the effects of fire on the creatures. Hopefully they can use the knowledge they gather today.

When they finish setting up their explosives, they all move away from the building, calling in the clear and waiting for the call for everyone else to move away from the site to go through before they push the button.

Dean shows up at Drew's shoulder, eyes alight with something he hasn't seen before. "Ready for some fireworks?" His voice is dark with anticipation of the kill.

"You could just let us do the fun stuff, you know that right?"

"Hell no. I wanna blow things up."

"You know, you're just as scary as Sam sometimes."

Dean looks to him, grinning. "Damn straight." He hears the go ahead from his radio. He grins. "Now watch yourself here. It's about to get a little hot."

Drew ducks behind their temporary barricade (a crumbling wall of a building), covering his ears as Dean pushes the button for the explosives. It does little to keep out the sound of the blast. He peeks back over the wall they're hiding against, watching pieces of wood and flaming sparks fall from the sky, the rest on the building engulfed in flames.

Dean chuckles beside him. "Beautiful." He pulls his gun back around from where it's hanging on his back. "Alright. Let's move."

They both move to strategic locations, ready to block any possible exit if by some chance a leviathan has lived enough to get away. Mostly, they just wanted to ruin whatever they were experimenting with here, but if they can manage to get at a few leviathans down, it'll be even better. That's when it all goes to hell.

Crow's voice is suddenly yelling over the radios. _"We've got a problem back here!"_ Gunfire is heard in the background.

Dean curses, standing and running towards the rest of their group, Drew trailing behind.

"_Report Crow!"_ Sky calls over the radio.

"_Leviathans! They had a hidden building!"_

"_How bad are the odds?" _Mark asks.

"_Nightmare."_

Drew and Dean get to the action then. It's chaos. Crow sees them arrive as they're retreating back towards the two, teeth grit in determination. He lifts his radio in order to be heard over the chaos, eyes on Dean. _"Blow them away."_

Dean sees the leviathans then. Seven of them. And now that they have a man… or two down, they don't have enough ammo left to take care of them it takes too many bullets to slow them down in the first place. Dean looks to Drew, eyes hard. "You heard the man. Let's do it."

As the rest of Crow's men hold the leviathans back by aiming to maim them, the two set up the last of the explosives in surrounding buildings, trying to be stealthy about it. It's hard, but they eventually have them set up, if not haphazardly just strewn around in hopes it holds them off. The problem? They know they're almost too close to make it far enough away in time. It'll be a scramble for all of them to get away before they have to set the blast.

Dean looks to Crow, giving him the thumbs up and holding up ten fingers.

Crow nods, then motions to his men while lifting his radio. _"We might be on a suicide mission boys. Let's try to keep it from being one. T-minus ten seconds. Now."_

"_Dean!"_

Dean's heart does double time at the panic in Sam's voice. His brother must have stolen Mark's radio. Only the leaders can communicate over that line. All leaders communicate with each other, they can be heard by every man on the field but only a leader radio can reply. And then there are the groups that only communicate with their leader and each other.

Sam doesn't say anything else. The 'Dean' hanging in the air heavier than anything else he could have said. Dean knows what he meant anyway. '_You better get your ass back here'._

Drew heard it too, eyes shooting to watch Dean.

Dean is counting backwards from ten, watching the rest of their squad move while slowly backing up himself. He lets his eyes fall closed. 3…2… "Sammy," he murmurs in answer. A silent _'I'll try'_. Then he hits the button and the world around them explodes.


	17. Chapter 16

**This one is shorter than most. But I wanted to keep the same format I've been using. Anyway, enjoy.  
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**OH. And can i make a HUGELY bragging note here? Um. I freaked out because of The Girl with the Dungeons and Dragons Tattoo. Because I had the idea before I watched the episode! Just go back to chapter one. Not the Prologue. Chapter one where Mark is telling the boys what he learned. Yup. Farming. People. I. Had. It. Nailed. Okay I'm done bragging and being excited now.  
><strong>

**And as always, thanks for reading and reviews. :)  
><strong>

**Ch. 16**

Two nights after stopping at the settlement they found.

About a month before meeting Mark.

It's dark when the screams start.

Sam and Dean are the first awake on their side of the camp, up and aware quicker than they've woken up since they lived at the cabin. It's mere seconds after they wake up that they have their gear packed and bags over their shoulders. Outside, they're overwhelmed at the sight of flames and smoke, panicking people running around seemingly without knowing what they're even doing. Dean looks to Sam. "C'mon. We need to find out what's going on."

Sam doesn't move, eyes locked on the flames, his body totally immobile.

Dean swears. "Sam. Sammy." He takes Sam's face in his hands, turning his brother away before trying to get his attention through whatever thoughts are crowding his mind now. Memories of hell, no doubt, with the flames and all. Or maybe the city fire with the leviathans. "Sam!"

Sam's breath quickens, but he doesn't snap out of his frozen state.

Dean yanks his brother behind him, having to loop his arm over his shoulder when he realizes his brother's legs are barely holding him up too. "C'mon. We have to get out of here."

Sam lets himself be led stumbling through the streets. His eyes are far away.

"Sammy. I need you to snap out of it for me." Dean lowers his brother to a sit behind a building to block the flames and heat from him. He takes a deep breath before slapping his brother across the face.

Sam jolts, legs spazzing to kick before he looks around, hand coming up to his cheek. His confused eyes find Dean, giving him a wounded look.

"Sorry, Sammy. I didn't have time to do it easy today. We need to get out of here and I need you to be quick. Alright?"

Sam nods.

"Do you trust me?'

Sam glares.

"I just had to ask." Dean pulls a scarf (What? The nights are cold and he found it at the house.) out of his bag, tying it around Sam's eyes. "I don't want you to freeze on me again. I'll get you out of here, okay?"

"I know," Sam murmurs.

They go through the camp, Dean leading Sam and stopping to help anyone he sees who needs it along the way. Sam flinches back from heat. Dean has to put himself between Sam and the flames. Remind him he's there. It still slows them down. It's when they're about to the front gate that Sam freezes again.

"Sam, c'mon!"

"A girl."

"What?"

"A girl. She's screaming." Then Sam is running, Dean stumbling behind.

Dean watches in amazement as Sam yanks off the makeshift blindfold and starts booking it towards a building. Then he starts hearing the screaming too. He stays close to Sam as they run into a building that's not yet on fire. He makes sure to not let Sam know he sees the flames working towards the back of it.

It doesn't take long to find the girl. It only surprises Dean a little when he sees it's the same one from the day they walked into the camp. Sam is always in tune with people he meets. Wanting to help them. Dean's sure his brother has an affinity for voice recognition. Recognition in general, really.

The girl reaches for Sam as soon as she sees him. Clings to his jacket when he pulls her into the protective cage of his arms. But when they leave the room and see the flames making their way through the building now, Sam freezes again. His body locks. He doesn't move. Just stares at the flames with a far-away look in his eyes. A bad look. A hell memory look. The girl is still hiding her face in Sam's chest.

Dean grits his teeth, grabbing his brother by the shoulder of his jacket. "Idiot brother." He yanks Sam with him, supporting his stumbling brother who still has a tight grip on the girl. Dean just leads him. Until something happens. A flame gets too close maybe. Something triggers Sam. He almost drops the girl.

Dean grabs her, already pressed up against his brother as he tries to get him out of here. He's vaguely aware of gunshots in the distance. Setting the girl down between him and Sam, he yanks his brother down as he collapses behind another building, free of heat or flames. He's losing him. He can see it. And he is _not_ going to let what happened at the cabin happen again.

"Sammy don't you _dare_ do this to me!" He doesn't see any recognition in Sam's eyes. Nothing. They're blank. He's gone. "Sam!" He stares helplessly at his brother, not knowing what to do. They have to get out of here. They have to… He slaps him again. Panic sets in when that doesn't do a thing. Sam's body sits limp. Slumped against the brick wall of the building. "Sam!"

The girl reminds him of her presence then, tapping Sam's arm and repeating Dean with, "Sam." She looks to Dean, confused.

Dean sets her out of the way, safe between him and the wall before grabbing Sam's face and pulling it to his. He touches his forehead to his brother's. "Sammy. I need you to wake up for me. Right now. You hear me? We need to save this little girl. We need to get out of here. But you need to wake up for that. Okay?" He pulls back to look into his brother's unseeing eyes. "Damnit Sam!"

The girl hits Sam's arm again. "Sam."

Dean lets his forehead fall against his brother's again. "I need you to climb out of whatever hole your memories have drug you to. Do you understand? I need you to come back, Sammy. You were doing great. You were getting better. I need that back. Sammy. Sammy, Sammy." He just sits there for a few precious seconds. They have to get out. The girl. The girl needs him. She doesn't deserve to die because he couldn't get his act together.

He looks down to her, seeing her look from Sam to him in confusion. "Okay. We're going to get out of here. Alright? I've got you. But I'm going to be carrying Sam."

She looks to Sam, touching his arm again. "Sam sick?"

Dean swallows, throwing Sam's duffel over his shoulder. "That's right." He throws Sam's arms over his shoulder next, moving him into a fireman's carry before standing to his feet with a groan. His knee is giving him hell for this. He pushes it away. Sam lays limp on his shoulders. He looks to the girl, looking at the fear in her eyes. "I need you to grab onto my jacket."

She does so immediately, her small hand bunching it up enough that her little knuckles turn white.

"That's good. Now hold on. I won't leave you okay? I've got you."

She nods, her other hand coming up to do the same thing. She holds on as he starts walking, keeping step beside him with three for every one of his.

He keeps his steps small. The weight on his back and his limp helping. He stays away from fire. Heading towards the front gate, he sees people starting to hose things down in the distance. As he comes out from the fire and smoke, quite dramatically from the view of the people watching, others run forward.

The little girl suddenly lets go of his jacket, running towards one of the people headed their way. "Daddy!"

Dean sighs in relief. That's one thing taken care of.

The man who pulls the girl into his arms is crying in relief. The mother is nowhere in sight. When he looks over the girls shoulder, his eyes lock onto Dean and see him carrying the huge man on his shoulders. He runs forward, not setting his daughter down even as he helps support Dean. "He alright?"

Dean shakes his head. "PTSD." It's the easiest way to describe this to a stranger. "I can't bring him out of his daze." He lets the man help him to a safe building, not touched by flames. They take Sam to a bedroom, dropping him on the bed inside. Dean's heart clenches as his brother doesn't move. Just like at the cabin. "God, Sammy."

The father watches him. "He your…"

"Brother," Dean cuts in. He gently moves Sam to a comfortable looking position, brushing his tousled hair back. "Sammy," he sighs.

"Sammy," the girl repeats, still in her father's arms.

"Fire triggers memories," Dean explains. "Big fires," he corrects. The homey fires in their fireplace or their little campfires never affected him. "It's been a long time since it's been this bad." He checks Sam's pupils. They're fine. Then goes over his body for injuries. Nothing. He sits on the edge of the bed with a sigh, running a hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry," the man says softly. Knowingly. The sound of someone who's lost someone too.

"Don't be," Dean answers. He chuckles. "The idiot saved your daughter. I had him blindfolded. Was leading him out of here. He heard her and ripped it off before sprinting back into the fire."

The man grips Dean's shoulder. "Then I'm _really_ sorry."

Dean shakes his head, looking back to Sam. "He'll pull through. He always does."

"Keep him here. I knew the people who lived here. They moved on a week or so ago. It's empty now. We'll probably have more people move in, but this room can be yours. It's one of the biggest."

Dean nods. "Thanks." He stands, looking at Sam before sighing and turning away. "Do you need any help with anything?"

The door is locked behind him when he leaves to help. Sam hasn't moved when he comes back hours later. He pulls of his brother's dirty and smoky clothes down to boxers and pulls the blankets out from under him before getting down to boxers and a t-shirt himself. He lays on his side after covering them up, just looking at Sam. "I'm staring at you," he murmurs. "You're going to have to wake up to get me to stop."

Nothing.

He sighs. "Goodnight, Sammy." He lays down, the last thing he sees is Sam staring blankly at the ceiling.

* * *

><p>It only takes two days for Sam to wake up from this one.<p>

"Thank God!" Dean had exclaimed when he woke up that morning to Sam staring at him from his side of the bed, laying on his side.

Sam smirks.

Then Dean grips him by his shirt. "Don't you ever do that to me again!"

Sam nods, face apologetic before he lays down, curling up and resting his forehead to Dean's chest after separating Dean's hand from his shirt.

Dean sighs, knowing this is Sam looking for comfort for what memories or tortures his mind had cooked up and had him trapped in. He throws his arm over Sam, letting it rest there. It's not cuddling. At all.

"I'm right here Sam."

Sam sighs.

"No more fires. Okay?"

Sam nods. Then his head jerks up, eyes beseeching.

Dean rolls his eyes. "The girl is fine."

Sam lets his head fall again, a huge sigh escaping him. As if as long as the girl was okay, he didn't mind what he had to go through.

Dean frowns. "Idiot."

Sam only scoots a little closer.


	18. Chapter 17

**This chapter is super long because I wanted to find just the right place to cut it off. It's up so soon because it's one of the chapters I had parts of typed up already and just had to piece them together and add things. Hope ya'll like. :)  
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**Ch. 17**

Present.

Everyone in the group manages to either get far enough away or take cover. Dean and Drew get the brunt of the blast, barely getting behind a crumbling building before they're hurt. Crow is thrown off his feet, opting to stay farther back with Drew and Dean since they had to do the dangerous part. He lands on his radio.

"Damnit!"

Dean shakes his head, pushing himself to his feet. "Forget it. Just get back to the jeeps now. Mark will tell everyone to get there."

Crow nods, looking to them as he starts heading towards where the rest of his men are already headed away.

Dean waves him off. "We're coming. Go lead the rest of your men. Let Mark know we didn't all die." He grunts when his leg twinges angrily at him but he and Drew are already heading the way Crow and the rest of their squad went.

Drew stays resolutely beside him. "Your leg okay?"

Dean shakes his head, trying to increase his speed. "Hit it on something back there getting away from the blast. It was fine this morning, the stupid piece of shit."

Drew chuckles, grabbing Dean's arm and heaving it over his shoulders in order for them to move faster. "C'mon. Just three miles to the jeeps."

Dean grunts. "Thanks for the reminder."

Drew is chuckling again when the ground rumbles. They stop, turning around just in time to see buildings start to crumble, flaming pieces tilting before falling against other buildings. It's easy to see after a few seconds what's about to happen. Dean can't believe it.

"No. No way." His eyes widen as he watches the domino effect start. "Run." He turns, dragging Drew after him. "Run!"

The buildings behind them crackle as they tumble, picking up speed as they fall. Fire and dust spread as the two men stumble over rubble and things laying in the streets. They race to make it to where the shorter buildings are. They aren't going to make it. Dean grits his teeth, pushing on just to get Drew to move faster. If he slows down, he knows the kid will too. The pain in his leg is exhausting though.

He feels the ground beneath his feet start shaking more, sparing a glance over his shoulder in time to see a taller building crumbling towards them. He groans internally, turning and shoving Drew in the back. "Faster!" He watches as he runs ahead, keeping up as much as he can. But he can't. He feels the wind from the collapse, dust whooshing past him as pieces fall around him. They're at the edge of the tall buildings when he finally gets hit by a piece of a collapsing wall. He stumbles, skidding to the ground on his back with a cry. He doesn't have time to pick himself up before a piece is falling on him, pinning to the ground on his back.

Drew cries out his name in panic as Dean cries out in pain.

As the dust settles, Drew skids on his knees to Dean's side, clawing at rubble. "C'mon, help me. Help me." Rumbles still sound far off, a few buildings around them crumbling but the worst is mostly over.

Dean tries to push the rubble off of him, not moving the big piece (just wood thank God) a bit even with Drew's help. He winces at a spark of pain in his chest, breathing hard as he lets himself fall back down. "I'm not getting out from under here anytime soon." He shoves his gun into Drew's chest. "Go. You'll be able to get far enough away before they get here."

"I'm not leaving you here!" Drew's wide eyes lock on to the blood seeping through what's visible of Dean's shirt.

"Damnit, Drew! Just take my gun and get out of here!" He tries to push him away.

"You idiot!" the boy suddenly explodes, "You know as well as I do that there's no way Sam can live without you!"

Dean suddenly stops his frantic shoving, eyes squeezing closed as a shaky breath leaves his lungs. "I know. And I promised him that I wouldn't die before he did." He opens his eyes, surprising Drew with the swirl of emotions in them. "You need to keep him from hurting himself. You hear me?" He struggles to find his pocket under the smaller bits of rubble, finally getting his hand into it.

Drew's mouth falls open. "What? No! I'm not leaving you here! You know it won't be the same!" He starts scrabbling at the debris again.

"I know it won't," Dean sighs. "But I need you to do it for me. Please." He stops Drew's digging, taking his hand and putting a piece of paper in it. He closes his hand around it. "This is the symbol I carve into his back," he tells him. "It's drawn on there and has the incantation you have to say before you finish it."

Drew stares, choking on his breath. "I can't do that to him, Dean. And even if I could, he only trusts you enough to do that."

Dean nods. "I need you to try. Okay? Just try. If the scar starts to fade, fix it. Alright?"

Drew stares.

"Please. Sam likes you. It might just be enough. Don't let him hurt himself. Keep him from killing himself if you can. Please, Drew. Say whatever you have to. He has a soft spot for other's suffering. Just tell him since I told him it was your job, that you couldn't bear letting me down. Just do that for me." A single drop of liquid slides back into his hair line from the corner of one of his eyes. Drew can't tell if it's sweat or a tear. "_Please._"

Drew's own eyes water. "I'll never forgive myself for leaving you here," he murmurs.

Dean claps a hand to his shoulder. "You're a good man, Drew. Now go. Sam may seem strong, but he's emotionally and mentally fragile. Take care of him for me. I wouldn't trust him with anyone else."

Drew takes that for the ultimate compliment it is. He puts his own hand to Dean's shoulder. "I'll take care of him."

Dean nods. Then shoves Drew's shoulder. "Go. Before they get here. I hear stuff moving out there. And… tell Sam I'm sorry. It isn't my place to tell him what he's ready for. His ass better be with the rest of the group when you get there and you tell him he's right. Okay?"

Drew hears something moving out there too. It's shuffling footsteps. Not falling buildings. And maybe voices. "I will," he murmurs. One last look at the blood on Dean's chest, and he stands and walks away. He doesn't look back. If he did, his resolve would crumble. As it is, he almost turns back six times before he finally gets to where the jeeps were before. There's a symbol dug into the ground, telling him that they moved five miles towards camp. He keeps walking. He knows why they haven't totally left yet. Sam.

His face contorts with a mixture of anger and grief. How _dare _Dean put this on him, he thinks though he knows why. And he also knows there wasn't anything better he could have done. As he jogs, he tries to find a way to tell Sam. Does he tell him he's dead? Or does he tell him he's as good as dead? Would Sam try to go find him? He doesn't stop thinking for the whole five miles. It takes him two and a half hours, trying to stay quiet and hidden just in case.

The sight of the jeeps doesn't give him the relief they usually do. Instead, they fill him with dread. Will Sam blame him? Hate him for walking away from his brother? He's aware of a stray tear running down his face. They've been doing that for the past five miles. One or two every once in a while. One more escapes when he sees Sam jump from one of the jeeps, running towards him. This is it.

Sam's eyes are wide, body tense and jittery. His eyes scan the landscape behind Drew before looking to the boy. His breathing picks up. "Where's Dean?"

The grating sound of fear in his voice makes Drew want to cry. But he can't. He has to take care of this. "Heavy walls. Fell on him. He couldn't get out."

It's as if Sam were a puppet and his strings were just cut. He falls to his knees, dust flying up around him as he falls apart. "No. No, no, no, no, no."

Drew sees men step out of the jeeps in the distance, but none come forward. He grips Dean's gun tightly in his hand. "He gave me his gun. Told me to run." He feels tears run down his face as Sam keeps shaking his head, his composure collapsing along with the man at his feet. "And he gave me this." He holds up the paper. "Told me to help you for him."

Sam's eyes lock on the paper, his whole body freezing for a second as if that were the last straw. The ultimate proof that Dean doesn't expect to be escaping. Trusting someone else to take a knife to Sam's body. It's as if he were suddenly released from chains.

Drew grabs him as he tries to run by, hands fisting in the man's ripped t-shirt. He vaguely wonders what happened to cause them. What had happened in Sam's group. "Sam! It's too late! They were moving in as I left!"

Sam struggles like an animal, clawing and grunting to the point of almost growling to get past Drew and run to his brother. His elbow shoots out to nail him in the jaw and forces him to let go. Then he's running.

"Sam! Sam, please! He made me promise! I already left him behind! Don't make me fail him again!" He rubs a hand over his jaw.

Sam slows, seemingly debating with himself.

"Please, Sam!" Then he pulls the card of being who Sam feels responsible for. "I can't deal with two deaths today." His voice isn't quite a yell, but the land on their side of the hill is quiet and flat. He knows Sam hears him. He starts forward when Sam slows to a stop.

Sam's shoulders are heaving, chest expanding and contracting at an alarming rate. His hands are fists, and his legs shake. Then he's on his knees again. "You liar!" he yells, the words vicious. More vicious than he's ever been towards Dean before. "You stupid son of a-" a sob breaks through his curse, keeping him from saying his brother's favorite phrase. He leans forward, arms wrapping around himself.

Drew gets to him then, a hand to his shoulder as he falls to his knees next to him. "I'm sorry," he breathes. "I left him there. I'm sorry, Sam."

Sam shakes his head, lifting it finally to look at Drew. "Not your fault," he chokes out. His voice is raw from yelling. His head falls forward again. "I can't do this. I need him." He starts rocking. "I need him. He keeps hell away. I can't do this without him. He shouldn't have asked you to take care of me."

"Sam. He doesn't want you to-"

"I don't care what he wants," he spits, head lifting and sending a murderous glare across the distance in front of them. "He _knows_ I can't do this."

"I think he believes you can. Or hoped at the very least."

Sam shakes his head. He's still shaking. Tremors in his whole body. "I'll never forgive him for this," he breathes.

Drew cracks a flat smile. "You already have, I'll bet."

Sam shakes his head, hands going to the ground to help him push up to his feet. "I hate him." He barely makes it stumbling to his feet.

"No you don't." Drew steady's him.

Sam doesn't answer. They both know Drew's right.

"He said you were right. It wasn't his place to-"

"Stop," Sam chokes out. "Please."

Drew doesn't continue. He understands. It doesn't matter anymore. Now Sam just wishes he had his big brother back.

They both walk silently back to the jeeps. In fact, Sam doesn't talk at all. Drew has to tell everyone. The drive back to camp is silent in their jeep. Sam gets out at camp without a word, walking to his and Dean's cabin without a glance to anyone. His shoulders still shake from tremors. Drew doesn't follow him, staying outside for a while out of fear for his life. The racket he hears inside is his confirmation. Sam is livid. It will be no surprise to Drew if there aren't any more chairs left in one piece when he goes in. Everyone else is giving the cabin a wide berth.

When it's finally settled down, he carefully opens the door and surveys the damage. He swallows in fear as he steps inside. Not just the chairs. The table too. And there are quite a few dents in the walls. There's also glass and blood on the floor where the table used to be. Drew is gripped with fear. He runs in, going to the bathroom to see Sam sitting on the floor, back against the wall and knees drawn up to his chest. His hand is cut badly, the red blood contrasting against his tan skin.

Drew gently pulls his hand away from where it's cradled to his body, using tweezers he finds in the med kit to get the glass out and wraps his hand. Neither say a word. When he's done he pulls Sam to his feet, pushing him out of the bathroom and into the bed made from two. He sits on the opposite side, aware that Dean shared with Sam to make sure he was there if he had nightmares, even though the spell was supposed to keep them away. He debates on whether to leave or not.

"Go away," Sam mutters.

"Are you going to try and kill yourself?"

"No promises," is the quiet answer.

"Then I'm staying."

Sam doesn't answer. Just turns his back to him and curls up into a small shape that shouldn't be possible for a man his size to fit to. He only takes up a half of the bed.

Drew pulls the bed he's on a foot away and lays down, looking up at the ceiling. He isn't going to be able to be what Sam needs. He needs his brother. If Sam has a nightmare, if he starts to go crazy, Drew doesn't stand a chance at reaching him. For the first time, Drew realizes how locked down Sam is to everyone but Dean.

* * *

><p>Sam doesn't have a nightmare. But the next morning, he's sitting in the middle of his bed, muttering. The words are so low, so quick and breathed that no one would be able to understand. Except maybe Dean. Who's heard them before. <em>You aren't real. You aren't real. You aren't real.<em>

When Drew wakes up, he looks over to the sound, sitting up and watching with fear at the way Sam seems to have fallen apart over night. The man he's seen since Sam and Dean got here shouldn't look like this. He shouldn't look like he's about to go insane at any second. It's just… wrong.

"Sam?"

Sam doesn't look to him. Just keeps his eyes squeezed shut and keeps muttering.

Drew doesn't know what to do. This is so out of his ability to control. He carefully stands, walking silently over to Sam's bed. "Sam." He reaches out, barely touching his shoulder before the man is darting away to the other side of the bed.

"No. Please." He presses himself back against the headboard in the corner of the bed, looking like he could fall off at any moment. "Please. Don't."

Drew watches in shock as the one person in camp who could make him more nervous than Dean scrambles away from him in fear. _This_ is what Dean was keeping at bay? _This _is how much of a support he was for his brother? No wonder there was talk around camp. "Sam, it's me. It's Drew, Sam. You're alright. Sam?"

It goes on for an hour or two. Maybe more. Drew just sits on the edge of the bed, talking to him. He starts telling stories of his childhood. Anything to hopefully attract Sam's attention. It doesn't work. It's a good thing Sam eventually eases out of it himself. When he finally does, Drew is left at a loss. He can't protect Sam. He's not Dean.

Sam looks to him, eyes finally looking like they're actually seeing what's around him. "Drew." He notices his curled up position as far away from him as possible. He swallows, realizing Drew just saw him flip. "Sorry."

Drew shakes his head. "Don't be sorry. I understand now."

Sam blinks.

"I understand that neither of us can do what Dean wanted us to do."

Sam flinches at Dean's name, then tilts his head. "What do you mean?" His voice is still soft. Barely there.

"I just sat here for two hours trying to pull you out of whatever you were just stuck in. I couldn't do it. I'm not him."

Sam closes his eyes, head falling back against the wall. A tear escapes his eye, rolling down his cheek to get stopped by the hair resting there.

Neither talk for a while. Drew eventually stands. "I need to go see if they need help with anything. They're probably wondering where I am." He eyes Sam. "You going to be alright?"

Sam shakes his head.

Drew doesn't know how to respond. He just leaves.

He checks in with Sam after lunch. He hasn't moved from the bed, but he's lying down now. He's still muttering.

* * *

><p>Sam hears Drew open the door. Doesn't care to turn. He's too busy telling Lucifer he isn't real. Trying to stay sane when all he wants to do is escape the burning he feels on his arms and side where he's been cut by Lucifer's blade. He knows he won't be able to help Drew keep his promise. He won't be able to live like this. He just can't.<p>

Living with visions of the devil is bad. Really bad. Paired with memories, the hallucinations that assault him are vicious. He feels everything Lucifer does to him. He feels like he's in hell again. He can't pull himself out. The scar on his hand stopped being his help a long time ago. Dean was his support. With Dean gone, he's sucked back into his mind. Lucifer has him. He's in hell.

* * *

><p>Drew can't pull him out. He tries. Sam almost seems comatose. Doesn't react to Drew's voice. Just twitches and whimpers, every once in a while getting out a mantra of 'you're not real'. Eventually, Drew can't watch anymore. He goes to sit in front of the cabin, staring at nothing. He can't help Sam. It was stupid of Dean to even hope he could.<p>

Sam snaps back to reality when Lucifer stabs him in the chest. He whimpers to himself, not even caring anymore how weak he sounds. He can't do this anymore. Lucifer is back stronger than ever. His mind has turned against him. He can't do this without Dean. He'll go insane permanently if it doesn't stop. And he knows it won't. It's on shaky legs that he finally stands from the bed.

He realizes with a second of shock that he hasn't eaten in over thirty-six hours when his stomach protests, but he ignores it. He's walking towards his duffel, at the foot of the bed. He doesn't have to dig. Just reaches in and pulls out his gun. He sits back on his bed, taking out the magazine to check the bullets before snapping it back in.

Then he stares at it. Feels the weight in his hands. Weighs his options along with it. The hallucinations and memories will only get worse. With Dean gone, he won't last more than another day in his right mind. It's better to off himself before that happens. But then there's Drew, who would feel like he failed his job.

"Damn you, Dean."

"Your brother never has made the best decisions," Lucifer pipes in, appearing on the other bed behind Sam.

Sam ignores him. Drew would get over it. He isn't in the messed up, codependent relationship Sam and Dean have. Drew would mourn like a normal person and get over it. But if he let the visions continue, someone else might have to kill him off out of mercy. And how would Drew feel then?

"Go ahead. Do it, Sam. You're only option, right?"

"Shut up," he mutters.

Killing himself would be considered weak. Not being able to stand up to his problems.

"You_ are_ weak, Sam. Can't live without your brother. Pathetic."

It is pathetic.

"Thousands of people live alone every day. Why can't you?"

Because he's weak. He needs Dean.

"You're a coward too. You're just staring at the gun instead of using it. Too afraid of life, but too afraid to die."

He's not afraid to die. Not really. It's happened many times before.

"Who's to say you won't end up with me?"

That gives Sam pause.

"Of course, as you said earlier, better to kill yourself now than wait for someone to do it for you."

He looks at the gun. That's what it comes down to, he guesses. Either doing it himself, or being put down like a dog with rabies. He nods to himself. That's it then.

* * *

><p><strong>So if you hate me for how I cut it off, mission accomplished. :) I will only hope for forgiveness.<strong>


	19. Chapter 18

**I can't believe I'm up to 18 chapters. And I have no idea how many are still to come. It can't be too many. But I don't really know.  
><strong>

**I wrote the ending last week. Well... there may be a short epilogue after what I wrote of the last chapter. But I have a goal to reach now.  
><strong>

**Flashback chapters may be few and far between now. If at all. I'm pretty much done explaining things though.  
><strong>

**Hope ya'll like the chapter. :)  
><strong>

**Ch. 18**

Still in the present.

"Drew!"

He lifts his head to see who called his name, trying not to look as defeated as he feels.

It's Steel from the front gate. He looks hysterical, somewhere between laughing and frantic. "Come here!" Then he takes off running back towards the front gate.

Drew blinks. Steel never acts like this. He gets up and sprints after him. Getting to the front gate, he slows down. There's a commotion around the outpost. He pushes his way through the people around the door, freezing inside as his eyes widen in shock. "_Dean!"_

They have him sitting in a chair, shirt off as they wrap his chest and one of his arms. His leg is already wrapped, jeans cut to below the knee, just needing the support around the weak bone. He looks over to Drew, giving him a tired smirk. "Hi." He winces when they pull the bandage around his chest tight. "Ow."

Drew gapes for a few seconds. Then he snaps. "If you _ever_ make me promise something so crazy again I'm going to_ kill_ you!"

Dean blinks, smirk turning into a look of shock.

Everyone stares in amazement. Drew is the only person who's ever actually spoken to either of the Winchesters like that. He keeps going. "_I_ can't be who you are to your brother!" He stalks forward now. "From what I've seen in the twenty-four hours I've watched him, _you_ are the only thing that's been able to keep your brother from going _crazy_! His only constant! _ I_ can't be that! Don't you _ever_ leave me to do that _again_!"

Dean stands, face panicked. "What happened?"

Drew looks up now that Dean's standing, eyes drilling up the few inches into his. "He's falling apart," he hisses. "I finally understand what he meant when he said yesterday that you kept hell away."

Dean sucks in a sharp breath, shoving past Drew and through the crowd at the door. He books it towards his and Sam's cabin, t-shirt going over his head as he pulls it on, possibly backwards. He doesn't care. "Sam!" He ignores the slight burning in his chest from the cut, his sole focus on getting to his brother. "Sammy!" He doesn't slow until he gets to the door of their cabin, stopping only long enough to yank it open before stumbling in, bad leg almost giving out on him after the run.

His breath catches in his throat when he sees his brother holding the gun in his hand. He watches in shock as Sam nods once, then starts lifting the gun. He sprints forward, colliding into him at an incredible velocity that sends them all the way across the two beds (space between them and all) and onto the floor on the other side with the sound of a gunshot echoing in the room. The gun clatters to the floor in time with Sam's 'oof'.

"Sam. Sammy. Hey. Look at me. _Look at me_." He takes Sam's face in his hands, angling it up until he makes Sam's eyes connect with his. "Focus, Sam. Talk to me. What are you seeing right now? Sam!"

Sam looks at him, not even blinking though he does focus on Dean's face. He doesn't move, barely breathes, as he looks up at his brother. Then he talks. "Dean."

"Yeah, Sammy. I'm back. I'm here. C'mon, Sam. Talk to me. Help me out. I'm trying to pull you out of your head."

Sam suddenly starts to struggle, pinned to the ground still by Dean's body right where they've fallen. "No! Anything but this! Please! Lucifer!"

Dean grabs Sam's wrists, yanking them up and pressing them into the floor above his brother's head, and lays as much of his own weight as he can on Sam to keep him on the floor. "Sam! I'm real! I'm right here! I promise!"

Sam goes limp, head falling to the floor with a soft thud as his eyes squeeze shut. "Please. Just let me get it over with."

Dean growls as he shoves Sam's wrists harder into the floor. "Sam. Look. At. Me." When Sam only shakes his head, eyes still closed, Dean suddenly pushes himself to his knees, leaning back to sit on his feet between Sam's sprawled legs as he yanks his brother up from the floor by a fist in his shirt.

Sam's eyes shoot open in surprise, mouth falling open as he gasps for breath now that Dean's weight is off his chest.

Dean has his nose a hair's width away from Sam's. "Now you listen closely and listen good. I just saw you with a _gun_ on its way towards your _head_ so I'm not letting you go until I'm sure it isn't going to happen again. I'm _right here_, Sam. I got away. It wasn't leviathans like I thought. They have a new weapon, but I'll get into that later. I got away. I'm _not_ dead." He grabs Sam's hand, putting it to his chest. "I'm alive. Enough to kick your ass if I ever see you looking at a gun like that again."

Sam's hand fists in Dean's shirt. "You promised."

Dean's face crumbles. "I know, Sam. I'm sorry. I'm right here. I'm not dead, okay? I kept my promise. Fought tooth and nail to get here. You with me? Hey." He puts his hands to Sam's shoulders, shaking him a little. "Are you with me?"

Sam looks at him for a second, eyes moving over Dean's face as he finally gives breathing room between them. "Dean."

Dean sighs. "Right here, Sammy. I'll keep the devil away."

Sam's breath hitches as he suddenly starts scrambling to practically climb_ into_ his brother, arms going around him and even his legs since Dean's still sitting between them. He grabs fistfuls of Dean's shirt, pressing his face into his big brother's neck though he doesn't cry.

Dean's arms go around Sam after a few seconds, a little weirded out from being treated like a tree, and the fact that his brother just wrapped both his arms _and_ legs around him. But he knows how much Sam needs a second for this. "Easy, Sammy. I'm right here."

"I got sucked back in so fast," he chokes out into Dean's neck. "When I would snap out of it I knew it wouldn't be long before I was stuck there. Like at the cabin. What you told me I did in the first few days. Just sitting. Doing nothing while I was trapped in my head. I couldn't let that happen. I was going to be stuck. He had me, Dean."

Dean keeps his arms around him, resting his chin on his shoulder. He even reaches up to pet Sam's hair as he presses his brother's face even more into his neck. He ignores the tiny bit of wetness he feels. "He can't have you anymore, little brother. I'm right here. Drew told me. I understand now. The reason you were able to pull yourself out of it at the cabin was because I was there. I'm not going to leave you alone, Sam. Okay? I won't let that happen. I'm sorry about this time."

Sam tightens his arms. "It's okay."

Dean winces as his chest gest compressed from Sam's hold. "Sam. C'mon, buddy. Loosen up. I _was_ buried under sharp objects."

Sam releases him instantly, pawing at his shirt to try and see the damage.

Dean grabs his wrists, holding him as he leans forward to make eye contact. "Relax, man. I was getting it wrapped up when Drew found me and ripped me a new one for leaving him the responsibility of you."

Sam chokes on a wet laugh, wiping away the two tear tracks from his face. From two single tears, one from each eye. "Don't do that to him again."

Dean hears the underlying 'Don't do that to _me_ again'. "I won't," he says softly.

Sam looks at him.

Dean looks back. "I'm sorry. I'll be more careful next time. Okay?"

Sam only leans forward, forehead coming to rest on Dean's shoulder.

Dean lifts an arm, wrapping it back around his brother's shoulders. "I know." He sighs. "I guess we should find you some food then."

Sam shrugs.

"I know you haven't eaten. And I'm starving. C'mon." He stands, keeping a hold on Sam's arm until he is standing too. "You going to be okay?"

Sam nods.

"Don't relapse on me bro. Let me know what's going on."

"Not relapsing," Sam rasps. "Throat hurts."

Dean nods. "Okay. C'mon. Let's go get you some food. Yeah?"

Sam follows, hand gripping the end of Dean's t-shirt in a death grip, knuckles white.

"I'm not going anywhere, Sam. I'm right here."

Sam only walks closer.

Dean doesn't try to detach him. Doesn't have the heart to. Sam _has_ relapsed a little. With the coming of Lucifer, it brings a wave of clinginess. The fact that Dean keeps him from showing up is a huge revelation to him. He knew there was a reason Sam grabbed onto him so much. But he never thought it was something as profound as that. He just thought maybe it was a reality check. Not keeping the actual _devil_ away.

Walking through camp, he sees people watching Sam warily and looks over his shoulder to see him looking a little more cold than usual. Maybe he should have someone bring them some food. If someone says something wrong today, Sam might not be able to keep from going at their throats. He finds Drew as he's walking towards him, motioning him over. He sighs when he sees Drew look at Sam with more nervousness than he showed even before.

"Can you bring me and Sam some food? I know he hasn't eaten since before this whole thing even though he won't admit it. And I think it'd be best to keep him in the cabin until he's ready to be a little more… civil."

Drew nods. "I can do that. He… doing okay?"

Dean looks to Sam again, seeing Sam looking at Drew. He can't describe the look on Sam's face, but when he looks back to Drew, the kid looks sheepish.

"Sorry, Sam. Are you doing okay?"

Sam's face softens just a little, one of his smirks that probably isn't supposed to look so dark spreads across his face. "Fine."

Drew nods. "Good. I'll… go get that food." He turns away.

Dean looks to Sam raising an eyebrow.

Sam just turns around, hand still holding onto Dean's shirt and therefore pulling him, heading back to the cabins.

"You're really working for the mysterious creepy guy thing here."

Sam chuckles lowly. "Figured it works. Insane and all."

"Don't be doing that now, Sam." Walking into the cabin, he looks around and notices the absence of chairs for the first time. And their table. He pushes Sam to sit on the bed instead. "You aren't insane. None of this is your body's fault. It's all mental stuff that stuck to you. This doesn't happen to normal people. Normal people don't have the actual devil attached to them. Even if they are crazy."

Sam shrugs.

Dean shoves the beds back together before sitting on it, scooting up to the headboard. "Come here."

Sam does immediately.

Dean pulls him down to lay next to him, keeping an arm around Sam as he lays his head on Dean's chest over his heart. Dean smiles as he hears the content sigh Sam lets out and feels how his brother's body finally relaxes. He knew that's what Sam needed. The recognizable sound of Dean's heart. Just like when they were kids. The basics. Always need to revert to the basics.

After a few seconds, his smile falls away. "Did Drew tell you I was sorry? That you were right? You should be able to tell me when you're feeling up to something. You know yourself better than I do even if I know you almost as much. I just get a little protective."

Sam fists his hand in Dean's shirt. "I don't care anymore. Just don't leave me again. Stay with me on attacks. Okay? I promise I'll stay here at camp if you want me to but you need to stay with me, okay?"

"Shhh," Dean soothes. "Promise. Now sleep. I'm right here. Everything will be better when you wake up."

Sam's out within seconds, exhausted from all of the emotional turmoil he's been in since he thought his brother was dead.

A few minutes later, Drew knocks lightly before entering the cabin. He blinks in shock when he sees the position of the two on the re-combined beds.

Dean opens his eyes from where he's only half asleep next to his brother, smiling a little at Drew's face. "It comforts him to hear my heartbeat. And to just be close. Always has. Since he was little. He'd always sneak into my bed when he had nightmares, even when Dad started separating us."

Drew sets the box of food on the small counter space in the kitchen before walking a little closer, eyes on Sam's face. "He looks so peaceful," he whispers.

Dean looks down, smiling softly. "Only when he's sleeping. That's why I'll do whatever it takes to get him to sleep. He needs this." He looks up at Drew. "We're used to people making assumptions about us. It doesn't bother us anymore. We've realized that we just need things from each other most brothers could do without. We're screwed up together. So we work just right."

Drew nods, watching Dean's fingers play with the ends of Sam's long hair. "I'm not judging," he murmurs. "After what I saw of him without you, I wouldn't ever tell you to not do anything as long as it was helping him."

Dean's face falls and he lets his hand messing with Sam's hair fall to the bed.

As if he felt his brother's mood drop, Sam's forehead wrinkles in a frown.

Dean's smile almost comes back as his other hand comes up and soothes the wrinkles away. "Relax, bro," he murmurs, voice as soothing as his hands. Sam instantly stills.

"You know," Drew says quietly, reminding Dean of his presence, "I think the reason people speculate about you guys so much is because they can't describe your relationship. I think a lot of people wish they had what you have with someone. The intensity of love you have for each other. How you'd do anything for each other. How you just fit together like pieces of a gun. A well-oiled machine."

Dean nods, letting his head fall back against the wall. "I guess that's why I don't mind any of this. Because I know nothing could ever be the same as the two of us together. We've never done 'apart' well."

Drew nods. He looks down, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment when he realizes how long he's been here almost ogling the brothers. Let alone the whole girly moment they just had. "I guess I should go."

"Can you tell Mark I need a meeting with the leaders tomorrow? I have some new info they might want. And an explanation about how I came back."

Drew nods.

"Thanks, Drew."

He waves him off. "No problem."

"I mean for everything."

Drew looks to him.

"You're the first real friend we've had in a long time. And you help us out a lot. Thank you. I'm sure Sam would say the same."

Drew smiles. "I know. And it's no problem. My pleasure actually."

Dean aims one last small smile at him before looking down at Sam again, hand already back to absently combing through his hair. As Drew leaves, he looks over his shoulder one more time to see Dean laying his head on his brothers, slouching down to get comfortable for the night. It makes Drew smile. Those two are something special.


	20. Chapter 19

**This chapter is way too short for how long it took me to get it up here. But since school got out I've been going out and doing things. So I took a break from writing for a bit.  
><strong>

**So the chapter. This is where it starts towards the end. The curve where they start getting the info they need. And also? I'm not near as creative as the writers. So my killing of the leviathans may be simpler than theirs. That's the beauty of AU though right?  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Ch. 19<strong>

Dean wakes up to the smell of bacon. A _really_ good smell to wake up to. Slowly though, his mind starts to register that he _shouldn't_ be waking up to the smell of bacon. Especially since they haven't had it since they left their cabin. Before he even opens his eyes, his body starts to actually register that it's alone in the bed. His eyes snap open.

There are few things that shock Dean, but one of them has always been his brother. As he sits up in bed, he warily asses what he's seeing. Sam's okay. Content even. Standing at the stove Dean got working a couple weeks ago cooking the bacon that keeps smelling better as the minutes wear on. Especially since he hasn't eaten in about forty-eight hours. First things first though. "Good morning."

Sam doesn't even flinch, just looks over his shoulder to give Dean a small smile.

He tries not to show his shock as he moves to sit on the edge of the bed. When he goes to stand, he winces.

Sam clears his throat. When Dean looks up, Sam's scowling, pointing to the headboard.

Dean scowls back. "I'm fine." But when he puts weight on his leg, he winces again.

Sam huffs, setting the skillet down and walking over to push and prod Dean until he retreats back to sit against the headboard.

"Okay, okay!"

Sam smirks, walking back over to the skillet to push the amazing smelling bacon onto a paper plate and carries it over to him.

Dean takes the plate, trying not to let Sam know he's assessing him. "So… where'd you get all this stuff?"

"Drew."

Dean eats a piece of bacon, ignoring how hot it is because it's so worth it. As he eats, he watches Sam slide his own bacon onto a plate and go to the big box that Drew brought last night. He pulls out a box of cereal, finally coming over to sit on his side of the bed, cross legged, cereal box between them. Dean finally speaks again. "So Drew came to check on us and you just decided to ask for a skillet and some bacon?"

Sam shakes his head, finishing one of his pieces and reaching for the box of cereal. "Saw your leg was swollen. Found Drew and asked for what they had today so you didn't have to get up yet. He brought the skillet and bacon. Knew our stove worked. Fresh is better."

Dean watches Sam eat the handful of cereal and notices it's one of the off brands of Cheerios. He vaguely wonders if there's any real Cheerios left. Then something clicks. He looks back to Sam. "You went out to find Drew?"

Sam nods.

"Without me."

Sam nods again.

Dean's hand twitches towards his bag. Silver or holy water?

Sam chuckles. "Not shifter or possessed."

Of course Sam knew what he was thinking. His face must show his shock. He leans back against the headboard. "You okay?"

Sam shrugs.

Fair enough. Instead of asking anymore questions, he finishes his bacon and starts taking handfuls of cereal as he tries to make sense of the situation.

Last night, Sam was falling apart. He reverted back to five-year-old-clingy Sammy. Dean had to play parent and make things all better like when they were kids, keeping Sam safely tucked in next to him while they slept. Sam felt better knowing Dean was alive. Then went out and got breakfast when he woke up. And now everything's fine? It can't be that easy.

"I'm fine."

Dean looks to Sam's amused smile. He chuckles. "I'm just a little shocked, is all. Proud maybe."

Sam's smile gets bigger.

"You don't need to prove anything, you know?"

Sam nods.

"Okay." Dean looks down at his leg. "Since you're being all housewife-y today, you mind wrapping my leg?"

Sam rolls his eyes, but throws his plate on the counter before going to the med kit and getting out new bandages. Sitting back on the bed, he moves the leg of Dean's jeans out of the way that's conveniently cut from yesterday when they loosely wrapped it. He takes off the old bandage, frowning at the bruising and swelling before carefully going back with the new bandage. "How bad?"

"Not too bad. Just a little sore."

Sam grunts, not necessarily believing.

"You care to explain how you're just back to being fine?"

Sam shrugs, not looking up.

Dean sighs.

It's quiet for a while. Then, "Figured no use dwelling on it. You're here. Don't want to keep the thought of you not. Just want normal."

Dean blinks. Sam _decided_ to be fine. He decided that since Dean was okay, he'd be fine. "So you're saying you just decided you weren't going to dwell on it."

Sam shrugs. "Basically."

Dean stares.

Sam finishes wrapping his brother's leg, securing it before looking up. He meets Dean's eyes. He grins a little when he still sees the shock there. He sits up, patting Dean's leg before reaching for the cereal box again. He eats a handful before he talks. "When Drew came back without you… I thought you were dead. And I just wanted you back. It's like the world fell off its axis. I just couldn't deal with it."

Dean cringes. "I'm sorry," he murmurs.

Sam shakes his head, hand fisting in his brother's jeans. "But you're back. And I figured that if you keep coming back to life for me, the least I can do is actually appreciate it when you're around. To do that, I need to be comfortable in life. Not acting like every single thing has it out for me. So I'm done being nervous. Done dwelling on hell. I'm here. Not there. And I'm going to live like it."

Dean stares at him. "Old Sam is back?"

Sam smiles nervously. "Not exactly. Maybe a mix?"

Dean chuckles. "I can live with that."

Sam grins. He pats Dean's leg again, looking down. "Doesn't mean I don't need you anymore," he murmurs.

Dean smiles fondly. "I know."

"Good." He stands, putting an abrupt end to the moment. "Drew told me the meeting you asked for will be at eleven. You ready? I want to know how you got here too."

"You let me sleep too late," Dean grumbles as he stands, slowly testing his leg. Sam wrapped it pretty good. It still has a twinge, but doesn't hurt as much. "You're good at this."

Sam chuckles.

* * *

><p>Sam's back to being silent as soon as the step out of the cabin. Dean figures the reason he talked so much earlier was because it was important. He can tell Sam still prefers to just not talk. He's okay with that. Sam is still making an effort with everything else. He went out and about by himself today for crying out loud.<p>

Apparently meetings between leaders are held in the lockdown cabin. Sam leads him there, stepping back to let Dean lead when they get there. Everyone makes themselves comfortable when the good mornings are over. It's interesting to see how everyone sits in their chair. It shows how informal everyone feels with each other.

Crow has his chair turned backwards, arms resting on the back. Mark is more formal, though his legs are stretched out straight and relaxed. Drake has his feet propped up on another chair and Sky sits on a windowsill and uses the same chair for his feet. A very laid back meeting.

Dean props his arm up on the back of Sam's chair since it's so close, leaning over to relax his whole body in an attempt to make the throbbing in his chest stop. His knuckles barely brush Sam's arm. "So… I have something to explain to everyone."

"You sure as hell do," Mark growls. "Damn near made me hope Bobby didn't come back to haunt me for gettin' your fool ass killed."

Dean chuckles as Sam smirks. "Sorry. But I have a good reason."

"So, let us in on the secret," Crow cuts in with a smirk. "I for one want to know how you got away if you were stuck buried under something heavy enough that you and Drew couldn't get it off you. Drew told us the story."

Sam looks to him.

Dean sighs. "Buildings started giving away after the blast. Domino effect started."

Sam frowns. His knee bumps Deans.

Dean presses his knee close in reassurance as he continues. "I was pinned beneath a falling wall. I'm just glad it wasn't heavy enough to crush me." He grimaces. "It hurt. But I was hearing things move out there. I could tell it wasn't from falling either. More like a shuffle. So I got Drew to leave. It took a lot of convincing." He looks to Sam.

Sam nods. He understands. He isn't mad.

Dean gives him a small smile before looking away and continuing. "It wasn't leviathans that found me. It was humans."

Mark frowns. "Humans?"

"That's why I was able to escape so easily. It's like they're controlling them somehow. Like the turducken mind control. Only it's different. They have orders and they follow them. But they're still perfecting it I think. It was way too easy to get away. If their orders are limited, they don't know how to act outside of them. They barely had enough mind to unbury me."

"So maybe they were what was left from the explosion, still following orders," Drake muses aloud.

Dean nods. "I think so. I didn't see a leviathan around as I left."

"You kill them?" Crow asks.

Dean nods. "That was a little tougher. There were four of them. And my leg was on fire. But I was a little quicker. As I said, I still think they're perfecting the formula." He chuckles, looking to Sam. "I've always wanted to say that."

Sam rolls his eyes but grins.

Dean stares, unable to stop smiling when he sees that it's closer to Sam's old grin. He nudges Sam's arm with the hand that's hanging over his shoulders. "Those eyes are going to roll out of your head."

"So…" Sky looks to Mark. "Any idea on a plan of action?"

Mark looks to Dean. "You know as much as we do. As an honorary leader of this camp, do you have any ideas?"

Dean looks to Sam. "I might. I'll have to see what Sam has to say. But I think we know just enough to start coming up with a final plan."

Sam nods. Then looks to Mark. "Who do you know that might want in on a murder mission?"

Dean blinks. "What?"

Sam gives him a sideways smirk before looking back to Mark.

Mark chuckles. "You really are the planner of the two."

Sam shrugs.

"I do know someone."

Drake shudders, making Crow and Sky chuckle. "Dude's creepy. You said we wouldn't go back there."

Mark shrugs. "He sounds like what Sam has in mind." He grins at Sam's creepy smile. "But when we get there I'll tell you why I'd prefer if you didn't go in."

Sam looks to Dean.

Dean's assessing Mark.

"I wouldn't take you if I thought you'd get hurt," he soothes.

Dean sighs. Then looks to Sam, who's still looking at him. "Alright. But you better fill me in on this plan of yours."

Sam grins.

* * *

><p>"This is by far the creepiest thing you have ever suggested."<p>

Sam shrugs.

"No. Don't 'whatever' me. Seriously dude. It's nuts. I'm actually kind of creeped out."

Sam chuckles.

"Do you really think it's a good idea to go see someone Mark thinks is sadistic enough to want to do this?"

Sam finally looks to him, tilting his head back and looking at Dean from his upside down position on the bed. Where he just flopped when they got back to the cabin to talk. He smiles. "Scared?"

Dean glowers. "Now Sammy. No need to be mean."

Sam laughs, sitting up and crossing his legs to look at Dean who's leaning against the counter. "I _hope_ he's as sadistic as Mark seems to think. We'll need that."

Dean huffs. "So are you going to tell me what your whole creepy ass plan is or not?"

Sam grins.


	21. Chapter 20

**It took way too long to get this chapter up. I am ashamed. I have no excuse. *cough*laziness*cough*  
><strong>

**Anyway, I hope it was worth the wait!  
><strong>

**Ch. 20**

The guy lives on the outskirts of the compound. Outside the fences. Back in the woods. Alone. About three miles away. Mark walks them there, Crow tagging along. He doesn't look thrilled to be here. As they walk, Dean starts to wonder who Mark's taking them to.

It's been two days since Sam and Dean had talked to Mark. Word has gotten around camp. The men are uneasy. Scouts were sent out, only to find out that it's worse than they thought. The brainwashed people are getting better at following orders. And there are a ton of them at the compound the scout team (a bunch of ex-marines) have finally located. Dick Roman's main headquarters.

There's a debate going around. Whether or not it's okay to kill the humans that are being controlled. Seeing as how they're innocent and so many other humans have been lost, most of the people in the camp don't want to kill any humans. It's what's the biggest trouble in deciding the best way to attack the compound. Especially since the best way is taking the humans out.

Mark and Crow have decide to take their superior ranks in account for the first time, deciding to do what they have to in order to get their men on board. The guy Mark is taking them to is who they're going to send in first to take care of the humans. During this time of planning, Sam keeps grinning that creepy grin whenever Mark keeps confirming this is the man they need.

It's Mark who stops them when they're almost there, turning to the brothers with a sigh. "Now I figured I'd address this here since I knew there was no way one of you was staying at the camp."

Sam gives a sharp shake of his head.

Dean lightly touches the back of his hand to Sam's arm in reassurance.

Mark nods. "I thought so. That's why I brought you both this far. Now… this guy is legitimately insane. In fact, he'd be in prison if our society wasn't floundering at the moment. The only reason he's still out here and we haven't killed him is because he's helped us with leviathan sighting alerts. A deal we have."

Dean makes a 'continue' motion with his hand, showing his impatience. "So what's the problem with him?"

Mark chuckles. "He's a serial killer."

The brother's blink. Dean's the one who answers. "I'm sorry. A _what_?"

Mark shrugs. "He's a serial killer. One of the crazy ones. Has a reason for his targets and all that. But he has a bigger variety than most. He just likes to kill so it's hard to have him around other people. That's why we've left him out here."

Dean stares. "You're letting a serial killer live?"

Mark huffs. "He hasn't killed anyone since we made the deal to leave him alone."

"So why is he still dangerous?" Sam asks lowly.

"He isn't really. Not to everyone," Mark answers cautiously. "Just you."

Sam blinks.

Dean takes an angry step forward. "Why him?"

Mark holds up his hands. "Will you hold up and let me explain?"

Sam touches Dean's arm, gently tugging at it to get him to step back and not give Mark any trouble.

Mark sighs. Fidgets. Looks anywhere but at the brothers. Eventually he gets out, "He's his type."

Once again, the two blink in shock. Not really knowing what to do with that bit of information. And again, Dean recovers first. "He's his _what?_" he growls, fists clenching at his side. Only Sam's hand on his arm keeps him from moving towards Mark.

Mark sighs. "Tall, brunette, male. We found the guy's file when we found his ID and were debating on whether to kill him or not. Went to the surrounding police departments and searched. Wasn't hard to find. We don't know why that's his preferred target. Whether it's family problems or some other reason. We don't really know how the minds of these people work. But out here on his own, he's harmless. A little crazy, but harmless. Take Sam in there? Not so harmless anymore."

Sam steps forward before Dean can reply. "Now when you say his type… you just mean killing right?"

"Right. He's in it for the kill. Not… anything else."

Dean grits his teeth. "Well that's good," he grits out sarcastically, "I'd hate for him to try _anything else_, let alone killing if he doesn't want to be killed himself." He turns to Sam. "Your plan keeps getting crazier. But it might work. So you stay here. I'll go in."

Sam grabs Dean's arm, halting his retreat. "No."

Dean spins on him, practically baring his teeth. "This one is not up for debate Sam."

Sam looks calmly down at him. "Dean. We've been hunted by way worse things. And we're still alive."

Dean raises an eyebrow.

Sam huffs, rolling his eyes. "You get the point. He isn't going to kill me. I think my proposition will be more appealing. And if he tries to kill me, he won't get past either of us."

"Sam…"

"Dean."

Dean shakes his head. "I don't like it."

Sam sighs. "Tough."

Dean glares at him.

Sam smirks. "So are you gonna send me in by myself or are you coming?" He turns and walks away. Apparently it _was_ up for debate. And Sam won.

Dean stares wide-eyed at his brother's retreating back before following, muttering, "Like I'm going to let you go in there alone. Bitch," under his breath.

"Jerk," Sam chuckles over his shoulder.

Dean lets a grin spread across his face. It sticks around until the cabin comes into view. Dean's the one to reach out this time. Grabs the sleeve of Sam's jacket and pulls him back as Mark takes the lead. He doesn't let go until Mark is knocking on the door.

"Mark?" a voice responds fairly quickly.

"Max."

The door opens, a man with strikingly blue eyes looking out at them. His eyes are immediately drawn to Sam, something changing in them.

Dean steps in front of his brother, pulling to his full height in an attempt to hide his bigger brother behind him. He locks eyes with Max, face stony.

Mark tries to get his attention. "Max. This is Sam and Dean Winchester."

"Nice to meet you," Max croons.

His voice makes Dean almost shiver. He forces himself not to. Keeps himself firmly planted in front of Sam who also tries to not look nervous.

"Max. You are not to touch Sam."

Max grunts, glaring at Mark before turning and going inside. "Come in." It sounds like he's actually pouting. But there's an underlying edge to it. He definitely isn't totally deterred. He motions to the old ratty couch in his living room area, opting to sit in a single chair.

Only Sam and Dean come in, Dean convincing Mark they'd be fine on their own. Mark still doesn't look happy when the door closes. The brothers sit on the couch, Dean in the spot closer to Max, keeping himself between his brother and danger as usual.

Max's eyes are on Sam.

Dean recognizes the look. He doesn't like it. He feels the slight tremor in Sam's leg where it's pressed against his. He doesn't like that either. It means Sam is actually nervous.

Surprisingly, it's Sam who talks first. "I have a proposition." He's using his sharp voice. Almost to the point of the devil's echo as Dean calls it. It shows how much Sam feels like he needs to protect himself right now. It keeps Dean aware of Sam's discomfort. Ready.

Max's eyes narrow. For a split second, he seems dangerous. Eventually though, curiosity wins out. "What kind of proposition?"

Sam smirks darkly. He's pulling everything he has into making himself look as blood thirsty as Max is. "You'll like it. But you need to focus. It has nothing to do with us, everything to do with a bunch of people that need to be taken out."

Max tilts his head, a twitch of his lips hinting at a grin. "Oh?"

Sam grins wider. "See, we have a problem. The leviathans have a new weapon. People. And they're everywhere in the main compound. The thing is, we also have a little problem with the men in our camp not wanting to kill humans that could possibly be restored."

Dean scowls at how Sam is going out and doing things on his own again. Though he guesses he needs to get used to it. It's not like Sam's ever going to ditch him. And since when is he so much like an insecure girl?

Max has leaned forward now. There's a glint in his eyes. "Details."

It's time for Dean to jump in, giving the details he learned from the scouts when he met with them. He chuckles darkly, white teeth flashing as he pulls on his inner sociopath. "We'll let you go in on your own. It's easy to see who's human and who's leviathan. Our scouts could tell easily enough. The leviathans carry themselves with arrogance. The humans? Stand around looking lost until they're told to do something or almost unflinchingly keep guard."

Max scrunches his nose, contemplating. "That doesn't sound like much fun."

Dean almost shivers at the pure thought in that statement, feeling Sam still trembling invisibly next to him.

But it's Sam's cool demeanor he's always had that helps in this moment "Oh don't worry, they fight back if provoked. The real trial will be trying to do it discretely, keeping the bodies hidden, that kind of stuff."

Max smiles brightly, which somehow ends up being one of the creepiest faces he's made all day. "I know how to do that. That's easy."

Dean grits his teeth. "Are you in? Because this will be the only time we open up a buffet of people for you. I have a feeling you're missing it. This is the chance of a lifetime. A high that will take years to go down." He tries not to think about how he knows that.

Sam tilts his head at Max, face changing. Almost a mix of the puppy face and a dangerous 'come hither'. "Think about it. How many chances will you have at something like this?" His mouth is a chilling grin to match Dean's dark eyes.

Max seems almost entranced by Sam, the predatory gleam gone for just a second. Instead, he's searching for the fellow killer in the bigger man. When he can't read Sam, he gives up, thinking instead of what he could be doing a few days from now. "It sounds lovely," he murmurs. His icy blue eyes have glazed over.

Dean looks to Sam, giving him a disgusted look.

Sam barely takes even a second to look back. His eyes are on Max. "You in?"

He seems to think for a little longer. Then he suddenly looks back to Sam, eyes lit in expectation. "I'm in." The predatory look returns though. His eyes follow Sam regretfully as the tall man stands. No doubt wishing he had a chance to kill him.

Dean keeps himself close to his brother. "We'll keep you updated on what's going on."

Sam nods. "It won't be long. Mark will keep you posted."

The two turn to leave, Max watching them and walking an acceptable distance behind them to the door. His eyes are on Sam.

Dean knows a lot about creatures like this man. Even if Max isn't a creature, basics still apply. So he does what he's always done when it comes to making sure no one messes with his Sam. He stakes his claim. When Sam walks out the door, Dean turns back. Makes eye contact with Max. Makes himself clear. Because even though Max has agreed to this, there's no way it will guarantee Sam's safety after it's all over. Mark's orders won't hold him back.

His voice is a low growl, almost a whisper. It's creepier than if he were yelling. "You touch him, one single hair on his body, and I will kill you. Do you understand me? He's mine. You can't kill him. You can't take him from me. He isn't yours to take. You make a move on him and I will peel the skin from your bones. And I assure you, with the things and people I know, you will end up in Hell when I finally kill you. Do I make myself clear?"

Max doesn't move his icy blue eyes away from Dean's. In that second, the release can almost be seen. The detachment of the claim on Sam his mind had made for him. The target replaced by one truth. _He isn't yours to take._ He's Dean's. Dean will be the only person with authority to kill Sam. Max has no claim to him. His life has already been claimed. Owned. He cannot interfere. He's Dean's brother. But there's something more he can see between them. They're… connected somehow. Dean Winchester was _made_ to be the one who controlled whether Sam lived or died.

Max sees it. He knows. He lets go. As much as he would love to take Sam apart like he's done to many others before, he fully believes what Dean promises. And for once, someone else has scared him. He won't touch Sam if he wants to live. He gives Dean a nod.

Dean can see the respect he's won from the man. He understands now why Mark hasn't killed him. Because Max might be crazy. He might like to kill people. Torture them. But he has limits. And he's smart. And right now, he knows that Dean stands between him and Sam. And he understands that he wouldn't live to reach the younger brother. Dean nods back, then leaves, finding Sam waiting for him a few feet away with his eyes locked on the doorway and body tense. He grins, giving Sam a wink to ease his worry as he walks up.

"What'd you do?"

Dean grins. "Established a 'blades off' rule. He won't bother you."

Sam eyes him skeptically before sighing. He lets a fond smile spread across his face. "You threatened him."

"You bet your ass I did. Now c'mon. We have some planning to do."

The four walk back to camp after getting on the same page with what went on with Max, immediately calling a meeting with the people who have been appointed leaders to help with the mission. This is going to be the strike they've been waiting for. They have their way in signed up to take care of the humans. Now all they need to do is start planning the attack strategy.

* * *

><p><strong>Max came from the thought of what happened to all of the criminals when the leviathans took over. They probably took them off to eat first considering they were in the jails and such but I'm sure some escaped. <strong>


	22. Chapter 21

**This is the longest it's ever taken me to update. I got suddenly busy this past week, so I've been falling asleep with my laptop balanced precariously on my lap with only a few more paragraphs written than the previous night. But I finally persevered tonight and finished! It's a more longish one so I hope that makes up a little for the long wait.  
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**Thank you so much for the reviews you guys. They keep me going :)  
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**Ch. 21**

"So we lie to them?"

"It's all we have."

"They'll be pissed if they ever find out."

"They won't. This may not go without a hitch, but Max won't be the problem."

Drake doesn't like it. "They may all know Max is crazy, but won't they think it's a coincidence that he's there?"

Mark shakes his head. "No. You see… we have a whole back story set up. Dean will play the part for that."

Crow chuckles, coming into the room. "And he'll be good at it too. He was practicing with me. Making sure he had all the info right. Dude's practically an actor."

Drake looks to him, confused. "Practicing what?"

Mark grins. "He's setting up the 'mental break of Max'. See, everyone knows Max listens to me just because he has a really strong sense of owing someone a debt. Something about that fuels his killing just as much. I never could understand the whole story of him, but setting up a story about a mental break is all we need for them to believe he just went nuts."

"But all the way out there?"

Crow shrugs. "He's still smart. It's easy pickings. And Sam, I think, has that taken care of too. The guy apparently has everything thought out. Dean just executes it. Trust me. Everyone will buy it."

Drake sighs. "Well… that just leaves convincing them that we're going to try to save the people when we get there before Max starts the killing."

Crow nods. "Sky is taking care of that."

"We are horrible leaders," Sky chuckles, letting the door of the cabin click shut behind him after hearing the last two sentences.

Mark shrugs. "It's all we've got. Sam and Dean's plan is dark, but the best we've heard yet." He looks to Sky. "What's the story?"

Sky shakes his head, face turning to one of wonder. "Now that he's talking a little, I realize how creepy Sam really is. The kid seems way too excited for this."

Mark chuckles. "Wait until you see both him and Dean gearing up. It's a little scary how childlike the get with excitement."

Sky snorts. "Anyway, he and Dean are working everything out. We'll be able to start setting up squads, transportation, and supplies tomorrow. We might have to make a few quick runs though. This is going to be the biggest strike we've tried yet."

Mark nods. "Just let me know."

"Also, Dean asked if we all could keep a close eye on Sam."

Mark frowns. "Why?"

Sky chuckles. "Apparently they're putting the weight of success on themselves. Of course, it seems fitting since they're always in the middle of everything it seems."

Mark laughs. "You have no idea."

"Dean says they'll be going in alone without a team. He'll tell us the rest when we get together to finish the planning, but I think they want to fix this since they see it as their fault anyway."

"So they're going in alone. He'll be there. Why do we have to watch for Sam?" Drake asks with disdain.

Sky looks to him in part irritation, not liking his tone. "They have to split up for a while to do what they need to. He wants us to make sure that if we see Sam to keep him safe."

Drake scowls now. "He's a big boy, he can take care of himself. Tell Winchester we aren't baby sitters."

Crow turns on him with a snarl. "I suggest you watch your tone. Those two have been through a lot. And Sam is trying to help us. The least we can do is make sure we're there if he has a mental break or something. God knows it's a miracle the kid started actually talking to us and not just Dean. He actually apologized to me last night when I went to make sure they had all the maps they need."

Drake still scowls. "I don't have to watch anything. Let alone my '_tone'_. You said it yourself. This is all their fault anyway. And no matter what they do for us, they're still grown men. We don't have to be responsible for them."

Sky steps between them before Crow can start a fight. After hanging out with Dean more, trying to get the plan together, Crow has taken a liking to both brothers. Even Sam, still being more quiet with anyone but Dean. "Enough. Drake, you don't have to help. Crow, Drake's being an ass."

"Hey!"

"Just let it go." Crow scowls at Sky, but huffs before turning away.

Sky pats him on his back before he gets too far, then turns to Drake. "They're like any other man in the camp. Why are you so worked up?"

"They failed," Drake growls. "They failed the first time, who's to say they won't again? This is all riding on them? What gives them the right to determine whether we win or lose?"

Mark shakes his head from where he's still sitting. "They never told us the story. Failure may not be the best word to use. We haven't had that much luck either."

"Of course they haven't explained," Drake huffs. "Explaining is an admission of failure. If they have to explain, they tell how they failed. You thought they were dead. Hell, everyone who's heard of them think they're dead still. I'd rather not put my trust in them."

Mark stands. "Well right now, they're all we've got. So suck it up, straighten out, and act like the soldier you say you are. Whatever you think of them, they have all of the info. They have Max on their side. They're the only ones brave enough to go in on their own, because that's what they've always done. So guess what? You'll have to live with them being what we're believing in. Understood?" He's standing in front of Drake now, pulling on his full effect of angry leader. It works.

Drake lets out a sigh, looking away. "Yes sir."

Mark nods once. "Good. This is going to be a huge strike. I don't want issues between our own men to get in the way."

Drake gives him a forlorn look before he turns to leave the cabin. "You better hope they're as good as you think they are," he grumbles.

* * *

><p>"How're you doing?"<p>

Sam huffs out a short laugh. He sits on their beds, running his hands through his hair. "I'm okay."

Dean rolls his eyes, abandoning the maps on their tables to go sit by his brother. It's easy to know all of Sam's tells. He's had lots of practice. Right now? His brother is starting to fray from all of the attention and effort it takes to step out of his comfort zone. He throws his arm over Sam's shoulders as he sits down, blinking in surprise when Sam lays his head on his shoulder and turns to wrap his arms around his middle. "I'm not a teddy bear," he grumbles.

Sam sighs into his neck and breathes in the strong scent of leather, gunpowder, outdoors, and something else so unmistakably _Dean_ wash over him. It immediately soothes his frayed nerves. "Just give me a minute."

Dean does. Doesn't move an inch for a minute or so. Then his hand starts rubbing over his brother's shoulders in a soothing motion.

"Dean?" Sam eventually says hesitantly, head still on Dean's shoulder though he does turn his face away from his neck.

"Hmmm?"

"What if this doesn't work? What if we screw up again?"

Dean sighs. "Sammy…"

"They won't ever listen to us again if this goes bad."

"It's not going to go bad," Dean insists.

"How do you know?"

"Because. We have a lot more people now. We have the intel we need. Mark is making sure everyone is getting any tiny bit of information that's out there to make sure this is going to work. We're going to do it this time."

Sam sighs, finally relaxing all the way against him. "Okay."

Dean grins. "Okay." After a few seconds, he rolls his eyes. "Are we done this this chick-flick moment yet?"

"No." Sam tightens his arms around Dean's middle.

Dean huffs. "You're killing me here."

"I can tell. Sound miserable."

Dean chuckles, slapping Sam's shoulder. "Bitch."

Sam smiles. "Jerk."

Dean sighs before leaning his head against his brother's. "You suck."

Sam huffs.

Instantly, Dean knows he's done talking for the day. And honestly? He's okay with that. Because that mean's Sam is comfortable. He's relaxing and giving up his shield for the day. And Dean is right there to take him in. "C'mon. I'm done for the night. Tomorrow, we can get together with the rest of them and set this whole thing up. Alright?"

Sam nods, finally letting go and standing with him. He goes to the bathroom to get ready for bed while Dean organizes the papers on the table. When Sam comes out, he climbs into bed, listening to his brother moving around in the bathroom. He sighs in content when the door opens and Dean walks over to the bed and climbs in after plunging the room into darkness.

Sam scoots a little closer than usual, forehead touching his brother's shoulder.

Dean rests his hand on Sam's arm that's next to him.

Sam's breath hitches in surprise. He smiles softly as he lets the wave of undeniable comfort wash over him.

"We'll be fine," Dean murmurs in the darkness.

"Okay," Sam breathes back.

Dean smiles at the trust in his brother's voice. He and Sam both have a peaceful, dreamless sleep that night.

* * *

><p>The next morning is the beginning of the end.<p>

Sam, Dean, Mark, Crow, Drake, Sky, Fox, Steele, Drew, and a few other men let in on the secret of Max are huddled around the tables pushed together in the leader cabin. Maps are passed around, lists of supplies are marked on, circles, 'x's, and notes written in red pen are all over the sheets. Men are sent out with lists of things they need and gather teams of people to go hunting for them. It's controlled chaos.

Dean mostly speaks for Sam, though Sam does get a few words in here and there. Drew is on the other side of Sam, making sure that if Sam needs anything when Dean has to move away, he's there. Only he, Dean, and Mark see how Sam is keeping himself together in the middle of the group of people. He doesn't like getting all this attention. Drew makes sure he knows exactly what Sam's trying to say to make sure he helps all he can.

Steele is in charge of the group that will break the perimeter at the compound. He's talking with Dean and the group of Marines that had scouted the area to find the best way in. Fox is right next to them, Dean learning that her nickname comes from how devious she is. She's the one in charge of who gets the suppressors for their guns and what vehicles are quiet and all the other things she seems to know about being sneaky. Dean laughs out loud when she wryly tells him her boyfriend's nickname is Wolf.

Drew looks over when he sees Sam freeze next to him, smiling a little when he sees it's just Sam centering himself again, half of his mouth twitching up in a smile. Dean's laugh relaxes him. He frowns though when he notices the way Sam shifts away from Drake whenever he gets too close. He glares at Drake, giving him a warning to back off from Sam.

When Sam finally has enough of Drake's pettiness, it happens quickly. Dean is talking to Sky and Mark, finishing up the transportation plans so he has his back to Sam. Drew is next to him, but doesn't even have a second to register how close Drake is and how hard he shoulder checks Sam. He barely catches the flurry of movement from the corner of his eye.

Sam's had enough. He doesn't know why Drake doesn't like him. Doesn't know what his problem is. But he figures it's time to stand up for himself. When Drake's shoulder connects _way_ too roughly with his, he spins on him and grabs him by the front of his jacket. Two seconds later, Drake's back collides with the wall and all of the breath in his lungs is gone. Sam towers over him, eyes sharp. "_What_ is your problem?"

Drake almost cringes at the growl that's Sam's voice. He doesn't. After he finally gets his breath back he answers. "You are." It's barely a breath itself.

Sam grits his teeth, hands tightening and loosening again on the man's jacket. It's hard to keep the build-up of discomfort that's been rapidly piling up all day from influencing him in his decision on braking the man's face. He eventually speaks again. "Tough."

Drake blinks.

"I'm not going anywhere as long as I believe I have something to help you. Now shut up, put up, and get busy. Or I will have you written out as a liability."

Drake sneers at him. "You can't do that."

Sam's eyes flash. "I can do a lot worse," he hisses.

The tone makes Drake actually shiver. He starts questioning his thoughts on the younger Winchester. Wonders how much of a killer he has inside of him. Wants to provoke him. Get him in trouble. So he does, not really thinking of what that would mean for his own life. "Do it then," he spits. His hand comes up to shove Sam away. It never makes it to his chest. It's suddenly pinned to the wall. It's like time slows down when he sees Sam pull his arm back and he realizes this probably was the stupidest thing he's ever done.

It's barely a second later that the hit should have connected. It doesn't. Dean is suddenly there, arm hooked over his brother's, holding it back. His other hand is wrapped around Sam's other wrist, the arm that's holding Drake's back against the wall. He's standing right behind Sam, eyes closed. His chin is resting on Sam's shoulder. A calming gesture more than anything. He's trying to help the tension he's seen building in Sam all day.

The whole cabin is silent, just the sounds of Sam and Drake's rough breathing heard. Then Dean speaks. "Sammy."

Sam doesn't move. Doesn't fight him.

"He's a dick. Understandable. But let him go. C'mon, man. Mark will handle him. Okay? Let it go. We have other things to worry about now. We don't need people questioning our ability to save them because of one stupid little fight. Right?"

Sam's shoulder's start to relax.

"There ya go. C'mon, Sam. I know it's been tough today. Let's go back to the cabin. Huh? Just you and me. No one to keep an eye on."

Sam suddenly sighs, breathing calming and arm coming down. He releases his hold on Drake's wrist, making the man wince. He doesn't get to be smug though, missing it in favor of turning to Dean, head hanging. He's hunched in on himself, looking up through his hair like he's always done when he's feeling sheepish.

Dean grins. "C'mon, buddy. Let's get you to the cabin. You've had enough stress today." He throws his arm behind Sam's shoulders, leading him away.

A snort. "Ridiculous."

Dean spins on a dime, fist swinging around to nail Drake in the jaw as if he didn't even need to look. He grins smugly as the man stumbles, cursing as his hand comes up to catch blood falling from his mouth. Dean turns to Sam, grinning at the raised eyebrow. "Please. You know I have better control. He's still alive."

Sam rolls his eyes but smiles a little, letting Dean lead him away.

"You okay?" Dean asks when they get to the cabin.

Sam huffs.

"I know. Don't worry about Drake. I think he's friends with Walt and Roy anyway."

Sam turns to him, eyes narrowed.

"Yes, you can still kill them later. But right now let's just chill, okay?"

Sam shakes his head. "Go."

"No, it's fine. We've gotten a lot done today. They don't need me anymore."

Sam rolls his eyes so hard Dean can practically see them rolling out of his head. "Go. M'fine. Just got fed up. I'll relax. You go work."

Dean sighs. "Are you sure?"

Sam nods.

"Alright. But I'll be right where we were. Okay? You need anything, come find me."

Sam nods, shoving him lightly towards the door. "Go. We're doing good."

Dean finally grins. "Of course we are. I'll be back later, Sammy."

Sam waves him off, going to lay out the papers they have in their cabin and see what else he can figure out in here himself.

It's hours later that Dean returns, huffing in disapproval at the sight of Sam laying over the table. His face lays on one arm, the other stretched out as if it were reaching for the pen on the other side of the table and just never made it. It makes him shake his head, a fond smile on his face. It's a sight he's come home to many times, ever since Sam started school what seems like eons ago.

He does what he did then, walking up and gently putting his hands on Sam's shoulders and gives him a gentle shake. "Sammy."

The gesture is so comforting in familiarity, Sam doesn't even startle awake. He barely opens his eyes enough to stand, letting Dean direct him towards the bed. He wakes a little more to grin when he hears Dean chuckling.

"It's like you're in high school again," Dean tells him.

Sam pats him on the chest before sliding off his jeans and all but falling into bed.

Dean goes to lay his jacket over the end of the bed, looking over to the table and reverting back to disapproval as he shakes his head. "Can't you ever relax?"

"When it's over," Sam mumbles from his pillow.

Dean chuckles at the weird sound. He eventually climbs into bed too, laying on his side facing Sam. Propping his head on his hand, he stares at Sam until his brother opens the eye that isn't sunk into the pillow. "So Mark had a talk with Drake."

Sam snorts, closing his eye again.

"Don't worry, he won't be causing anymore problems. Mark had a nice long chat with him and Drake finally feels that you aren't so bad."

Sam lifts his head this time, eyes narrowed. "What did he say?"

"Drake heard the bad stuff from Walt and Roy. And Drake himself isn't too fond of you just because of how cold you are towards people. But Mark set him straight, so he'll tolerate you now. But still keep away from him. The stress of impending doom is getting to him."

Sam chuckles, laying his head back down. "S'gettin' to all of us."

Dean pats his arm before shuffling down to get comfortable. "We'll do fine."

Sam only hums quietly in answer.

Dean falls asleep quickly. Sleep is important now. After tomorrow, there's no guarantee they'll have time for sleep.


	23. Chapter 22

**We're in the home stretch. :) Just a few more chapters to go. Thanks for the continued following you guys. And I know my way of killing the leviathans is less complicated and easier than the way on the show, but that's the beauty of AU. And with the world I created it'd be a little harder to get the things they needed in the episodes. **

**So, enjoy the chapter. A little bit of stuff you already know, but I thought it'd be interesting to see how other people view the story of the Winchesters. And planning their final strike takes time. ;)  
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* * *

><p><strong>Ch. 22<strong>

The cabin is closed off now. It's Sam, Dean, the four leaders, and Steele in the room. They're going over the last details. This is it. The final stretch. Within the next two days they will head out to the compound Dick is staying in. They know he's there from the constant communication they've had from their scouts camped out between there and here. Groups are stationed at various checkpoints, everything they think could be important is passed down the chain to reach Mark and the others. The distance for their radio frequency sucks, therefore, the message chain.

They're all sitting around the table. It's Mark's turn to talk. "The strike where we thought we lost Dean was one of the final pieces of the puzzle. Fire does kill them. Our men finding out where Roman is holed up was next. We have that under our watch." He looks around the table. "We have the way in, we have the way out. It's everything in between that needs to be controlled."

Steele cuts in. "Do we have a backup for Max?"

Dean shakes his head. "Max will do it. He's way too excited for this. Me and Sam went to see him this morning. He's on his way there already to… do his thing. Scout the area or whatever. When we give him the signal, he'll go nuts."

Steele nods, trusting Dean's judgment.

Mark continues. "We'll get there after Max has started in on the people. As horrible as it sounds, that's what we're banking on. Him killing enough humans for us to start sneaking in. Once we think we're clear for moving in, Dean and Sam move in and take care of Max before they head off on their own part."

"Which is?"

Dean looks to Crow. "Sam and I are going to make sure Dick gets what's coming to him. We're going to kill him ourselves. After that, then we can continue with the rest."

Crow nods. "That's smart. Leaving nothing to chance."

Dean nods.

"Then we move in," Sky supplies.

Mark nods. "Then we start setting the place up to kill the rest of them. If we're lucky, Sam and Dean can dispose of Dick quietly."

Sam chuckles.

Dean grins. "That's the plan."

"It's what we're riding on," Mark says with a roll of his eyes. "So you guys need to make sure you aren't seen going in. I know you're good. I'm just warning you. And I know he's evaded you before…"

Sam's eyes snap up, going sharp. "He won't this time," he almost growls.

Dean pats Sam's arm soothingly, looking to Mark. "He won't," he agrees. "He won't see us coming. And he'll probably be too concerned with what Max does to think about us. We know what works now. We're ready."

Mark eyes him before nodding. He looks over the group. "Now… shall we start making sure everyone knows what we're doing?"

Sky grins, standing. "I'll go get the rest."

* * *

><p>They've got groups one and two up to speed when someone comes running into the camp. A low murmur between the man and Mark has the other leaders and a few men crowding near to hear what's going on. Sam and Dean push their way through when they see Mark's face fall. When they get to him, he visibly deflates.<p>

"What?" Dean asks sharply.

He sighs. "Bunker number three in the reporting line was discovered last night."

Dean grits his teeth. "How bad?"

Mark looks to the man.

The man who came running into camp looks to them sadly. "It was a chance find. They came across us when we were fixing our radio. It was broken by the wind right after receiving an update from bunker two. We had a man outside fixing the wires. They saw him and closed in. We were able to fight them off since there were only two. But… we lost a few to the fight."

Dean looks to Mark in confusion. "We're still updated on the compound. They fought them off. So what's wrong?"

Mark doesn't look up from where he's turning a folded piece of paper in his hands. "This here is the list of the dead. Five of them."

Dean and Sam only stare on in confusion.

"Drew's the one who was going to go in with you, right? You were going to have him be the one who covered you to the front door?"

Dean nods. "We're meeting up with him at the bunker on the way there. We confirmed over the radio chain. He said he'd do it. I knew he'd have our backs. And he's one of the best shots we have."

Mark nods. "He was."

Sam's hand grips the arm of Dean's jacket.

Dean inhales sharply. "_Was_." It's not a question. He knows what Mark is telling them. Suddenly hears the many other times Mark used the word 'was' in his previous questions.

Mark nods anyway. "I think you might need a replacement," he murmurs.

Sam spins away, running a hand through his hair in frustration, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

Dean runs a hand over his mouth, turning around too. "Damnit." He watches Sam kick at a leg of a table, everyone stepping back as the table skids across the floor easier than they'd think. He looks over the way people are eyeing them warily. He sighs, letting his eyes fall closed. "Mark. Who would you recommend covering our way in?"

"Give me a few hours. I'll let you know."

Dean nods, walking over putting a hand to Sam's arm where his brother is now supporting himself by his arms on the table he kicked. His other hand goes on his brother's back. "He's in a better place."

Sam nods once.

"I promise. He was a good kid." Dean's stomach twists. Just a kid. Barely over eighteen. He sighs. "C'mon. We need to keep going. He'd tell us to get moving."

Sam sighs, nodding again. Then pushes himself up.

Dean pats his back, looking up when Sam's hand fists in his jacket right above his heart. "I'm not going anywhere. Okay?"

Sam's fist tightens until his knuckles are bone white. He presses his fist more into Dean's chest and steps closer, a desperately meaningful edge to it.

Dean pats Sam's chest. "I know. Me too."

Sam sighs, shoulders drooping as everything just seems to wash out of him.

Dean pats him one more time before turning back to Mark, hand still on Sam's back. Lingering comfort. "Let's bring in group three."

* * *

><p>When Drew dies, something shifts in the Winchesters. Everyone can see it. Not so much in Dean as in Sam, but they both change. They're back to how they were when they first got there. They withdraw from people. Go back to sticking with each other most of the time. Dean doesn't withdraw completely. He talks to Steel and Sketch keeping up with the maps and plans. He talks to whoever he needs to get the job done. Sam though…<p>

"We've _all_ lost people," someone speaks out at a meeting. Dean and Sam aren't there, going over weapons supply with Fox today. "We're in the middle of a war."

Mark nods, eyes scanning over these people. He's lost many over the past year. "They know that. But what a lot of you don't know is how much death followed them before all of this."

"Then explain it to us," someone else says harshly. "Why are _they_ so special?"

Mark looks to him, narrowing his eyes. "You never had any experience before this war, have you Rick? Normal life before this, right?"

Rick shrugs.

Mark leans back in his chair. "Their story isn't mine to share," he sighs. "But seeing as you have to work with them, it'd be fair to understand them. And these two are quite a pair."

"Tell us," someone speaks up. "I've heard a lot about them. I want to know what's true and what's not."

Mark looks to her. "You were a hunter before, right?"

She nods.

Mark nods to himself before speaking. "You all know there are things out there now. Monsters. Demons, though not as many these days. The leviathans hate them too. They stay away. But a few of you are hunters. Who knew about all of that before this and killed every evil creature you could." He sees a few people nod. Recognizes some. He's pleased with having everyone's full attention.

"Sam and Dean were raised in it. But it was worse. Their mom was killed by a demon when Sam was six months old. His girlfriend the same way twenty-two years later. They were both burned on the ceiling."

"The demon John was hunting," an older man supplies knowledgably.

Mark nods. He recognizes the fellow hunter. "They find out later all of that happened because the demon bled into Sam. So those deaths, and other's related, Sam sees as his fault. Because the demon wanted_ him_. Then there's all of the people they've tried to save and couldn't. John Winchester sold his soul to save Dean's life. Dean sold his to save Sam's. Sam couldn't save Dean and he started going downhill in the four months Dean was in hell."

"The angel pulled Dean out," someone says.

Mark nods. "Castiel comes into the picture. Things happen. Sam is manipulated by another demon into unknowingly using his powers from the demon blood to set the devil free. Everything that happens during the beginning of the apocalypse they see as their fault. Dean inadvertently broke the first seal when he was in hell, Sam was manipulated into breaking the last. But they also defeat all four horseman, except Death because he helped, and they try to figure out how to get the devil back into his cage."

"Some of you knew Jo and Ellen. Or at least heard of them in the stories. The Harvells. Sam and Dean see their deaths as their fault too. They died trying to get the Winchesters to the devil before they found out the colt wouldn't work. During all of this they find out they're the vessels to Michael and Lucifer. That if they said yes, they'd have to fight.

"But what they were more worried about was how the world would fare during the fight. Not to mention that they probably wouldn't survive. Michael was supposed to kill Lucifer. Dean was supposed to kill Sam. But there was no guarantee Dean would live either. It was just a huge mess."

"How do you know all of this?" someone asks.

Mark chuckles. "I was a friend of their… pretty much their second father. Bobby Singer. He was with them through it all. He told me the story. How Sam decided to say 'yes' and hoped to defeat Lucifer in his mind and jump into the cage himself. At first he doesn't. he disappears. Dean though… he doesn't give up. He shows up where the fight is supposed to happen and hopes to either help his brother, or not leave him to die alone." He shakes his head.

"I would never believe it if it wasn't Bobby who told me Dean's account of what happened. He said Dean told him that while Sam was beating him, punching him over and over again in the face, he freezes. Something happens in his mind. No one but Sam will ever know what it was that gave him the strength, but he takes control back. He uses the rings and Dean watches as the brother he sold his soul for jumps into the devil's cage. Dragging the archangel Michael with him."

"Castiel brings him back," someone supplies.

"Accidently without a soul," Mark adds.

There's a murmur through the hall at that.

Mark nods. "For a full year, Sam is without his soul. And _somehow_ Dean convinces Death to get it for him and put up a wall to keep the memories out. You guys know a lot of the rest. The Leviathans and all that. How Castiel let them out. The boys see that as their fault too. Not being able to stop that.

"But what most of you don't know is that Castiel took Sam's wall. He has nightmares of Hell now. Bad enough that Dean had to find a spell to keep them away so his brother was actually able to sleep. But Sam never gets a break. Dean told me when we met up that Sam sees things while he's awake. Lucifer himself or twisted realities. And the only thing keeping those… hallucinations I guess… away, is Dean."

"That's why you never see one without the other for very long," the female hunter from before says.

Mark nods. "Dean keeps the devil away. He keeps Sam sane. But Sam also helps Dean. Gives him something to fight for. And pushes him when he needs it. It's a very… co-dependent relationship."

It's silent in the room now. Everyone preoccupied with their own thoughts.

Mark's eyes move over them. "All of that is why I have them here. Because no matter what they go through, those two keep pushing on. Mostly because of each other. But they'll help anyone they can along the way. We needed that help. And they came. I have no doubt they'll be the reason the Leviathans are defeated."

* * *

><p>"I heard about Drew," Fox murmurs.<p>

Dean nods.

"He was a good friend of mine." She lays out a few more guns on the table before looking across the room to where Sam is counting ammo. "How's he doing? If I'm feeling this miserable, I can't imagine how he feels."

Dean sighs. Debates on whether to talk about Sam with someone he barely knows. In the end, he figures it wouldn't hurt anything. "He's… upset. Sam attaches to things. When we came here, he had his walls up. He had built himself a fortress. But… I think he saw how genuine Drew was. Still young. Affected very little by the war. And he saw a friend. So he let him in. And now…" Dean shakes his head. "Sam hurts. He's a very sensitive person. I tease him about it sometimes. Right now, I just feel guilty."

"Why?" Fox asks, confused.

"I thought it'd be good for Sam to let people in. I encouraged him to lower his walls. Now they're back even stronger than before. He needs to retreat into himself when things like this happen now. He hasn't talked in a while. And I think him being this far from me right now is hard for him. But he's doing what he can. I can't be more proud of how he's handling it."

Fox nods, marking off the last thing on her list. "Well you should go over there. We're done here. I can do the last list. You make sure he's okay."

Dean gives her a small smile. "I thought he scared you."

She grins, giving him a wink. "I'm a softy for the hurting. And… he is far less intimidating when he's sad. Just… give him a hug for me. Okay? He's one of those people that just hurts you to see sad."

Dean nods. "I know exactly what you mean." He puts a hand to her shoulder. "Thanks for doing the next list."

She shrugs. "I don't mind. We're still on schedule."

He walks over to Sam, smiling softly at how his brother relaxes as soon as Dean is mere feet away. "How's it goin'?"

Sam looks up, giving him a little quirk of his lips and shrugging.

"I know it's not very exciting. But you should be getting your geek time in," he teases.

Sam raises an eyebrow.

"You know. Geeks like to organize things. Very anal."

Sam rolls his eyes.

Dean huffs. "Don't act like I'm stupid. It's true. I've never seen a geek who didn't like to organize things. Pencils, books…"

Sam gives him a shove with his shoulder, setting another big box of bullets aside and writing on the list. Then he huffs, pulling out a new list.

"How many more?" Dean asks.

Sam holds up the list he just pulled out.

"Thank God!" Dean groans. "I'm tired of organizing." He takes the list from Sam's hand though and sets it down. Then grins at Sam's bitch face. "Before you start that one, how are you doing?"

Sam sighs.

"No, you don't get to do that. You never let me get away with not talking."

Sam smirks a little.

Dean puts his hands on Sam's shoulders. "Just… are you okay? I just need to make sure you're alright."

Sam finally gets serious, patting Dean's chest. "I'm fine," he murmurs.

Dean studies him before finally accepting it was the closest thing to the truth he's going to get. "C'mere." He gives Sam a hug, patting his brother on his back before pulling away. "Fox said to give you a hug. And you looked like you needed it. So… yeah." He scratches the back of his neck, turning to pick up Sam's list.

Sam gives Dean a soft smile behind his back, not calling his brother on the moment when he sees Dean do his nervous gesture of rubbing the back of his neck. He just starts working again. Yeah, Drew is gone. But Dean's right. That kid is definitely in a better place. And… he still has Dean. He always has Dean.


	24. Chapter 23

**I had to take a break for a while. Was a little tired of writing (which happens every few months) and was hanging out with friends almost every day. I'm back now. :) Here's an extra long chapter for the wait. I hope it was worth it.  
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* * *

><p><strong>Ch. 23<strong>

Each group moves towards Dick's 'fortress', as they've come to calling it, from a different direction. Once they had everything planned, they took a day to set up. A base camp was organized ten miles away from Roman's base of operations in an old city with a building big enough to keep everyone in. An old hospital.

News of their final attack was sent out to other camps all over the states with people trained to fight, telling them that if they know of where a leviathan base is, to destroy it. They give them all of the information they've gathered and any tricks they know about dealing with the leviathans. When all of the messengers were back, that's when they had moved out towards Roman's base.

Mark stays at their base camp in the hospital with a team, maps spread out and communications monitored. They keep up with the movement of all of the teams and let the other groups know the status of their fellow teams. They're the ones who went through all of the communications equipment and made sure the buttons on the radios don't stick or wires weren't loose. They did all they could to ensure the ease of communications.

Four groups are stationed around the compound. Waiting for the go ahead from base. They sit, quietly waiting and watching. Two groups are a little closer to the compound. Small groups of five. They're the ones who will move in if something goes wrong when the Winchesters try to get into the compound.

The Winchesters, and one man, are twenty feet from the compound. Squatting in a small building across the street. Dean's eyes are scanning the area around the compound. Looking for the last key to their plan. Then he sees him. Dean waits until Max's scanning eyes see him, locking eyes with the cold blue ones at the other corner of the compound. He raises a finger over the windowsill his eyes are looking over, making a circle with it before pointing towards the compound.

Max, grin spreading across his face, instantly heads towards the building.

Dean turns to Sam and the other man with them, lifting the radio to his mouth. "Snake is headed to the nest. I repeat, snake is headed to the nest. The hawks will move in t-minus ten. Viper is set to strike if needed."

Sam snorts.

Dean smirks at him.

Back at the base, Mark nods to himself as the other men at the radios forward the info to the other groups. "Clever nicknames," he comments into the radio designated for Sam and Dean's radios.

Dean chuckles. "Thanks." He makes eye contact with Sam. "Ready?"

Sam nods.

Dean looks to the man with them. "We're going to try and sneak in. But if something goes wrong, I need you to cover us."

The man nods, keeping silent as he ready's his gun. He sets it up on the window sill.

"The hawks are on the move. Viper is loaded. Green for go on turning off the radio."

"_You're green. Be careful."_

Sam and Dean look to each other as he turns off their radio, turning as one to move out the side of the building they're in. They make their way towards the compound.

They're silent. Motioning with hand signals when they need to. Thanks to the intel the scout group of marines had for them, it's not hard to find the blind spot in security. They stay in the shadows, keeping farther away until they're sure they'll be able to glide in unnoticed. Unfortunately, there's always one person that happens to be unpredictable.

One human walks around the corner out of turn. It's eyes lock onto Sam and Dean, barely stepping out of the shadows. Dean and Sam can't even move before a hole is suddenly in the man's head. Then he's on the ground. The entire thing is silent.

Dean looks to Sam, eyebrows raised. _He's good._

Sam smirks, nodding. _He is._

They keep moving, listening to the voices that come over the small radios each human has on them. They use the sounds to keep from coming in contact. Getting to Roman is all about invisibility. And silence. So far, both are going good. They just have to stay behind wherever Max is working, not walking out where too many humans are until he's cleared a path. So far, it seems that no one has been alerted to the disappearing humans.

Dean looks to Sam when they finally reach the door that will lead them into the building. He reaches out, setting his hand on the back of Sam's neck and squeezing lightly.

Sam smiles brightly, out of place for where they are right now, and does the same.

_Be safe._

Both drop their hands at the same time, turning away to slide through the doorway and going their opposite directions.

* * *

><p>The way they have communications set up is complicated. But the set-up, if explainable at all, is as follows:<p>

At the base in the hospital, there are eight sets of radio transmitters. There are four for each of the four groups that are surrounding the compound.

Sky's group, Drake's group, Crow's group, and Steele's group.

In each group, are squads, who can only communicate with their leader, and the other squads. Sky's squads, group one, can only hear each other and Sky. Drake's squads, group two, can only hear each other and Drake. Same for Crow and Steele's groups.

Sky, Drake, Crow, and Steele pass on whatever info they get from Mark they feel they need to pass on to their squad leaders. In total, the men in the squads get their info from their squad leaders, who get their info from the group leaders, who get their info from Mark. Accurately of course.

Two other transmitters are for communicating with the smaller groups of five, closer to the compound. Just the two leaders of those smaller groups have radios.

The last two radios are the one for the Winchesters and the one for the sniper set up in the building they were crouched in.

Each radio belongs to someone who agreed with the plan of having Max kill their way in. It's manipulative, sure, but it's the only plan they had.

Mark stands behind all eight master radios with his group, monitoring progress, issuing orders, giving updates. All in all, it keeps things organized. The radio waves are kept clear. Communications are great. Everyone is ready to move in.

"_What's the update?"_ Crow asks.

Mark picks up the sniper's radio. Going with the nickname Dean gave him, Mark asks, "Base to viper. Have the hawks made it into the nest?"

"_Hawks have made it into the nest. Snake is nowhere to be seen. Wait. He just took someone out. Shit, the guy's good."_

Mark chuckles, taking the radio for Crow from the crew member in charge of it. _"The boys are in. Waiting for the signal."_

"_Drake to base, we have a problem."_

Mark frowns. "What is it?"

"_Some of my men say they've seen Max."_

Mark almost laughs out loud. Drake should have been an actor. The guy sounded so serious when he said they had a problem. "Max? What's he doing here?"

One of the men at the controls in front of him snorts, but continues working.

Mark grins to himself. Maybe they _all_ are a little too good at this acting thing.

"_I don't know,"_ Sky's voice comes in. _"But my men have seen him too."_

"What's he doing?"

"_It looks like he's taking people out."_

Good. He's doing his job. "The bastard. Sounds like Dean was right. He's gone off the rails. Is he attracting attention?"

A man leaning over the maps looks up and shakes his head at Mark. "You guys all deserve awards for this performance. Even I'm starting to believe you didn't know he was here. And I'm the one that gave Max the secrets of getting in!"

Mark winks at him.

"_Negative. He seems to be keeping stealthy. What do we do?"_

Mark lets his sigh be heard over the radio. He knows there are men in the groups that didn't approve of killing the humans around. He has to make it believable that Max wasn't their idea. "Let him keep going. We can't stop him without attracting the attention. The Winchesters will take him out if they see him. I know we agreed to not go in by killing the humans, but it looks like that's what's happening anyway. Be ready in case this goes south, boys."

The sniper, now called viper, talks over the radio. _"Devious bastard."_

To most, it would sound like he's talking about Max. Mark knows he's talking to him. He grins to himself. Everything is working exactly to plan right now.

* * *

><p>Sam bides his time. He's tucked away in a storage room. The one of only three with a window. He's waiting for his chance to take out Max. Once he's taken out enough humans, it's Sam's job to get rid of him. Make sure he doesn't get them caught. Make sure he doesn't live to be loose in the new society that's going to be formed after the destruction of the leviathans.<p>

Sam sees him now and then. Just flickers. A knife slit over a throat. Body pulled away and hidden. Barely a drip of blood dropped. A shadow within a shadow. Moving through the gaps. The guy is good, Sam has to admit. That's why it'll be such a pleasure to take him out. Sam's better. Max will never see it coming. He and Dean kept him oblivious to this part of the plan. It was almost too easy.

He checks his ammo, attaches the suppressor. He waits. As much as he hates using guns still, he's a little giddy with anticipation. His eyes move with Max. Able to follow him once he knows what he's looking for. He waits for a few more kills. Then raises his gun. He's seen a few leviathans looking a little distressed. They're noticing the loss of more than half of their human enforcements. It's time to take that part of the plan out.

The next time he sees a flicker, he shoots without hesitation. Instinct doesn't wrong him. He gets Max right in the back of the head. Perfect for making it look like just another human lying in his own blood. Even if his throat isn't slit, the leviathans won't know the difference. They'll think he was one of theirs.

His job done, Sam disassembles his gun. It's back to knives now. Though he keeps the gun with him. Sneaking out of the closet, he makes his way to find Dean.

* * *

><p>"<em>Snake has been taken care of,"<em> the leader from front line group one radios. _"Looks like a Winchester took him down."_

Mark nods. Good. Since the two front line groups are smaller and closer to the compound, it's no wonder they have a better view. "Any leviathan panic yet?"

The two people at the transmitters ask the question to the two groups.

"_Negative,"_ the leader of front line group one answers.

"_No,"_ the leader of front line group two answers at the same time. _"But they are starting to figure it out. They have a few more minutes yet before the leviathans totally get it."_

Mark lets out a sigh. "Good. Tell the groups to get ready," he tells his message relayers. "The Winchesters will let us know when to move in. Tell the two front line groups to start spreading out and moving closer. They'll go in first. Pave the way."

Mark turns to the maps as his team tells all of the groups what he said. He looks to the strategic plan overseer. "Go over the attack plan with me again. I want to be able to keep tabs on everyone."

* * *

><p>He prides himself on being stealthy. Sure, he's not quite as good as Dean. Being bigger and heavier. But he's better than most people, even smaller than him. So when he gets himself noticed by someone just as big, he kind of hates it. How did he not hear <em>them<em>? And how did they move fast enough to knock him against the wall before he could even react?

It's always the head too. He always gets hit in the head. He tries to shake himself awake as he stands, but groans and winces when it only makes it worse. His eyes squeeze shut, a hand coming up to his head. Before he can pull together enough to protect himself, an arm is tightly around his neck and a knife is to his throat right under it.

He considers his options as his air supply quickly runs out. Reach up and risk plunging the knife into his throat himself, or freeze and hope the choke hold lessens a little. He decides on freezing. The man behind him doesn't move. His vision starts to get fuzzy, barely feeling the slight prick of the knife slightly cutting into his throat. The arm doesn't loosen.

He vaguely wonders how he always gets attacked by men bigger than him only when he's alone. When he has Dean with him, he never has any problem. But this guy is huge. And bigger than Sam is a rarity. Even though he's not quite back up to his past muscle. The training he and Dean keep up has gotten him almost there though. His vision starts to go black.

"Hey!"

Sam gulps in a quick breath when the arm jerks at the new voice, fireflies dancing across his eyes in answer to the new oxygen.

Dean stands at the end of the hall. Slowly, he walks forward. No weapon in sight in hopes to keep the man from killing Sam quickly. He takes in the size of the man behind his brother and the tight grip around Sam's throat. The knife is in a very dangerous spot. Right under the man's arm at Sam's jugular, a small cut already made to let blood flow freely. His brother's throat is bared in the way the man is holding his chin up with his elbow, the position restricting his breath just as much as the arm around his windpipe.

He sees Sam's eyes losing focus. "You have one chance. Let him go." His voice is even. Deadly.

The man only stares at him.

"Talking… won't work. Brainwashed," Sam gets out airily.

Dean curses to himself. Of course. Stupid. No mind of their own. He steps forward, hand moving slightly to his back.

"Move and I'll break his neck," the man behind Sam suddenly says.

Sam and Dean lock eyes. Shit. Now the brainwashing has been perfected. They have freedom within their orders. That explains why he hasn't actually killed Sam yet.

As if to prove just how right their suspicions are, the man lowers the arm with the knife to wrap around Sam's middle. The knife is placed in the vulnerable part, right beneath his ribs. But what catches Dean's attention is the way the arm pulls Sam back, snug against the body behind him. Dean's nostrils flare in anger, his jaw clenching. His eyes lock onto the smug face of the man where it's right next to Sam's.

Sam tenses in an icy shiver of shock at the change of his position before he sees the look in Dean's eyes. All of his fear disappears. "You better make peace with God," he chokes out with a grin, tilting his head slightly to his right to make sure the man knows it's directed at him.

Dean's gun is out in a second, a shot fired before either Sam or the man behind him could have even flinched.

The huge body falls to the ground, Sam following right behind. There is no echo of the shot, the suppresser doing its job.

Dean skids on his knees next to Sam, pulling him away from the man he had fallen back on, a disgusted glance thrown at the body. He lifts Sam's head into his hands, checking him over. "Hey, Sammy. You alright?"

Sam looks up at him, gasping for air. He winces when Dean goes to check his neck. "He had enough mind to threaten to-" his wheezing is cut off.

Dean grips Sam's face, his own twisted in fury, though not at Sam. "Don't. Don't ever bring this up again. You hear me? I don't ever want to think about that happening…" he closes his eyes. Even though his brother is just short of thirty and could probably fight his way out of a situation like that most of the time, the thought of someone even _trying_ to do that to his brother makes him sick. Even if the man was brainwashed. That was a _human_ decision. Beneath the leviathan brainwashing was a man who would have done that to his brother if he had the chance.

He takes a calming breath when he feels Sam's hand close tightly around his wrist. He moves to look the rest of Sam over. "Are you okay?" He runs his thumb just under the bleeding cut on Sam's throat. Not too deep, just enough to let out a steady stream. It's already trying to clot though. It should stop soon.

Sam nods, grimacing as he swallows. "Throat will be sore for a few days." His voice sounds like it was scraped over a cheese grater.

Dean stands, helping Sam up with him. "Sorry if I scared you with that shot. It was pretty close." He looks down to the perfectly centered bullet hole in the man's forehead.

Sam shakes his head. "I trust you. Especially when you get that look in your eyes."

Dean looks back to him, partly serious and partly cocky. "Of course. No one threatens my little brother." He pats Sam's arm, gripping his sleeve to pull him behind as he turns to go down the hallway. "Stay close. One rescue is enough per day."

Sam rolls his eyes and grins slightly. Dean would rescue him a hundred times a day if he had to. "Is everyone else in position?"

"Max is a killing machine," he hisses in both awe and revulsion. "Did you get him?"

Sam nods.

"We're almost clear to send the men in. We just need to get into position."

Sam nods. "Perfect."


	25. Chapter 24

**It's been brought to my attention that some people don't like reading long stories. So I want to thank everyone who has stuck with me on this one. :) I know my updating has been random and sometimes way too long between chapters throughout the entire thing, but you have all been patient and wonderful reviewers. So thanks. And I hope you like the new chapter.  
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**Oh. And this one is a little gory I guess. Of course I've never been able to consider anything written to be 'gory' per say. Especially after seeing the wonderful things the our show itself has portrayed. ;) But anyway, it's war after all. I apologize for nothing. :)  
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**Ch. 24**

When they're down the hall from Dick's office, Dean motions to Sam to make sure he's actually in it. When Sam confirms, he turns his radio on. "Hawks have made it to the golden egg. Send in the troops in two minutes. Start with the quiet guns. We'll have him out before you get to the louder ones. He'll never know what hit him."

"_Base to hawks, good work boys. Go get 'em. And be safe. I expect to see you back here with the rest of them."_

Dean turns his radio back off, coming up beside Sam. "Let's get him Sammy."

Sam grins. "We just walking in?"

"Like we own the place," Dean answers. He opens the door, walking in as if this was an everyday occurrence. "So… Dick."

Roman turns, looking calm and collected as usual. But there's a small difference. He's stiff. Like he's calculating.

Dean smirks. "Nothing is going to stop us from taking you out this time."

Roman tilts his head. "Oh? So you've found a way to kill me?"

Sam chuckles now. "Let's find out," he growls.

Dean moves as a mirror image, both brothers moving around the desk to corner Roman between it and the wall. Dean chuckles when he sees his shifting eyes. "Nervous finally?"

Dick turns to him. "Hardly."

"You should be."

Dick smiles suddenly. "No. That's all you." Then there's the huge mouth of teeth going straight for Dean's throat.

Three things happen then that save Dean's life. There's the fact that he saw it coming. Knew Dick's tells. The smile he always made before striking. The slight step in his direction before the rows of teeth appeared. Second was stupid luck. Stepping back and almost tripping over one of the chairs around the desk. His neck fell away from the huge mouth aimed for it.

Third, of course, is Sam. And even though their plan was fuzzy on how to make sure Roman never made it out of this room, it all came together the moment he had his back towards Sam. Because Sam knew how to strike when someone's back was open. He learned that from the devil. So it was a cinch to sink two knives into Roman's back, right next to each other and slice him wide open, the knives themselves used to pry open the wound.

Dean stares up in shock from where he's holding himself up with the chair he's half fallen over. He can only stare for a second. Sam's face is both intent and maniacal at the same time. There's dark glee in his face, triumph from getting Roman while his back was turned and sick satisfaction at the carnage he's created.

Dick, in the meantime, is letting out a horrific cry which is actually what shocks Dean out of his daze. A couple seconds after Sam had sliced open Dick's back, Dean is standing next to his brother, flare gun aimed at the gash that's already healing. He shoots before it closes. Dick Roman goes up in flames.

What they had discovered during the strike they thought Dean had died during was that the leviathans were only effected by fire if the black goo was vulnerable. If they were 'bleeding'. It was highly flammable. But if skin was in the way, it didn't affect them. They were able to put it out before it made it through the skin to their black blood. So all they had to figure out was how to get Roman vulnerable enough for the flare gun to work. It seems he had opened the opportunity for them.

Sam doesn't stop there though. As the body goes up in flames, he cuts off the head and shoots his own flare at the bottom where the goo is leaking out. "Extra reassurance," Sam growls darkly.

Dean pulls out his radio. "Dick is dead. Send in the rest." He turns off his radio again, not caring to listen to Mark. He did his part. Now he has to help his brother. Going to stand in front of Sam, blocking his view of the burning body, he takes his brother's head in his hands. "Sammy."

Sam's eyes are unfocused. His hands are shaking. He doesn't react to Dean saying his name. Just stands frozen. Still glaring at the burning head.

Dean runs a hand through Sam's hair, taking Sam's chin in his other hand and aiming his face at him. "Sam. Don't you go back there. Don't you do that. You're not in hell. That wasn't the devil. He's not going to come back and hurt you. I'm here. We're both here. You just killed Dick Roman, Sam. You just did that. Now come on. We need to get out of here."

Sam's eyes slowly start to focus.

"That's it. C'mon bro. We need to do our part. There's a lot more leviathans we need to take out. It's not over yet. And we need to set our charges."

Sam's hands stop shaking. He looks down at his knives, eyes zeroing in on the black goo on the blades. That seems to get through to him. His eyes snap back up to Dean's. "Say it again," he breathes.

Dean knows exactly what he's talking about. "I'm here." He takes his brother's shoulders, grinning as he shakes them lightly. He's so proud of Sam. He's just pulled himself out of wherever he goes faster than he ever has before. "We're both here. And we need to get this party started. You ready?"

It's then that the wave of soldiers without suppressors make it to the building. As gunshots start to echo through the walls, Sam starts to slowly pull himself back together. He locks eyes with Dean as he wipes the goo on his blades on his sleeves. "Let's go."

Dean's eyes crinkle at the edges with his smile. "Like old times, eh Sammy?"

Sam only grins.

They leave the sanctuary of Dick's office, leaving him to finish burning behind them.

* * *

><p>"<em>Dick is dead. Send in the rest."<em>

The command is said so sharply, all of Dean's previous joking gone, that Mark knows something is wrong. He silently prays that Sam is okay as he starts relaying the message and giving out commands.

"All teams without suppressors move in. We're all in now. Tell the teams already inside to start laying charges when they can. This is it people. Let's get them bleeding. We need to make sure as many as possible are down before we blow the joint."

As Mark's team relays the messages to everyone each of the orders pertains to, he turns to the sketched maps of the building that the map team had put together as accurately as possible from intel gathered. "Tell everyone to radio when their charges are set in their locations," he calls over his shoulder.

"Charge C says he's set already," someone manning a radio informs him.

Mark grins. Maybe this will be a good day. Success is already made by the killing of Dick Roman. Now they just have to take care of as many leviathans as possible. "Good job, boys," he murmurs to himself. The Winchesters are back.

* * *

><p>Goo is everywhere. Heads are rolling. Monsters are being killed today. Unfortunately, red is also mixed in with the black on the white walls and floors.<p>

Sam and Dean move together down the stairwell until they reach their floor. Dean fires off shot after shot until they get close enough for Sam to slice them apart. And slice them Sam does, a fire lit in his eyes that's been gone for way too long according to Dean. Then they have to separate to set their charges.

There are other men on this floor, trying to take out leviathans and pave the way for the others who have to set their own bombs. It's a slaughter house down here. This is where the second wave is arriving. Sam moves through them, helping where he can but always going for the area he needs to set.

More leviathans come up from the basement below right before Sam can get his backpack off his back. He ducks when he hears the cry behind him, waiting for the guns to stop before he goes after the leviathans that weren't hit while the men reload. Black splatters on him as a head hits the ground. He already has his knives sunk into another body, prying it apart and going for the head after the body has hit the ground.

He turns to the last one standing, but is just a second too slow. He finds himself airborne, flung into a wall. He hits it at his shoulder, but his breath is knocked out of him from the way the position compresses his lungs. He struggles to get up fast enough to protect himself. Luckily he doesn't have too. Rapid gunfire takes the creature out, sending his head into multiple places in the room.

Sam is still trying to get his breath back, using the wall to stand and slinging his bag off his shoulder when he feels a hand on his arm. He turns, freezing in shock when he sees it's Drake. His breath hitches and finally he's able to breathe again.

Drake chuckles. "There ya go. I was worried for a minute you weren't going to start breathing again."

Sam coughs, letting himself be led by Drake to his target area. "Thanks," he huffs.

Drake hears the shock in his voice. He shrugs. "I was a jerk before. I'm sorry. And your brother asked us to keep an eye on you. So I figured I could make it up to you that way."

Sam rolls his eyes. "That sounds like him." He lets himself plop down on the floor, opening his bag and pulling out the mess of wires and charges. He looks to Drake. "Let's get this set to blow, shall we?"

Drake grins. "It'll be my pleasure."

Dean finds them like that, eyes narrowing at the sight of Drake walking towards Sam until he sees that they're both finishing Sam's assigned task. When he sees Sam spot him and wink, he relaxes. So Drake changed his mind about Sam. Lovely. Better late than never he supposes. He offers Sam his hand to pull him smoothly to his feet. "Done?"

Sam nods, looking around at the carnage in the hall. The floor is secure. The men are moving to other areas in search of more leviathans. A few stay behind in each area to make sure the bodies don't put themselves together enough to keep the goo from being vulnerable to the fire that will come from the explosions.

Dean turns to Drake and the few men left on this floor. "Get out of here. We'll keep an eye on this floor."

They all nod, Drake throwing a casual salute as he turns to go up the stairs. Then it's just Sam and Dean, eyes scanning the bodies. Only three are human, noticeable by the red blood. That's not bad odds in war to be honest. Dean grins up at Sam. "We did it Sammy. A minute or two and we'll get the all clear that everyone has set their bombs and we'll be out of here. The building will blow and it'll all be over."

Sam blinks at the foreign concept. "Retirement."

Dean laughs. "If we can keep from attracting trouble out in our cabin."

Sam smiles suddenly, a look that shouldn't be in such a tense situation. "Home."

Dean puts his hand to Sam's shoulders, eyes still scanning the room for possible reassembling leviathans as he answers, "Yeah. Home."

* * *

><p>Mark lets out a laugh of triumph when the last letter assigned to a bomb is called back to him. All of the bombs are ready to go. "Radio them all in. It's time to finish this." His team calls the retreat over the radios and he listens to every group answer in affirmative. Except Sam and Dean. He sighs. Hopes they're just busy with something.<p>

"_Remind them to radio the clear when they've made it far enough away to set the blast," _Sky says over the radio. _"Rendezvous point at the water tower. It should be visible to everyone. We can all trek back from there."_

Mark nods to his team when they look to him for confirmation. "Tell the rest to radio team safety. When all have cleared, we'll set the place alight."

A minute and a half later, all teams have radioed that they're a safe distance away. Except Sam and Dean. Mark doesn't give the go ahead. He waits. Hopes. The two heroes of this war can't be left to die.

"_Mark, have you heard from the Winchesters?"_

* * *

><p>"<em>All teams evacuate. We're ready to detonate,"<em> is the warning called by whoever is manning the radio that reaches Sam and Dean.

The brothers take one more look around the room before they turn towards the stairs, looking for bodies putting themselves back together. Nothing yet. They should be good to go. Unfortunately, nothing ever works that smoothly for the Winchesters. Just as they turn to the stairs, a sparking sound catches Dean's attention.

They both turn, Sam finding the source of the sound first. He watches as another spark flies off of one of the wires on one of his bombs. "Damn."

Dean sees it too, grabbing Sam's arm and bolting towards the stairs.

They never make it. The bomb goes off after they're behind a wall, but it's bad enough that the whole floor in that area collapses. They both fall through, Sam scrambling to grab onto the edge of the crumbled floor but missing by mere inches. They both hit the ground, the big pieces of the floor falling all around them.

Sam hears Dean cry out, turning as he tumbles to land on top of his brother to shield him with his own body as the floor keeps crumbling when spots weaken from the spreading fire. He waits for the other bombs to go. None of them do. That's when Sam finally lets out a breath of relief and pushes himself up to look around for their way out. They have a chance to make it out before the fire reaches the other bombs and the rest of the floor blows.

But of course, it's never that easy. They never get a free pass. They're trapped. Not a speck of light makes it through other than the two ceiling lights that have survived enough to flicker above them. The big section of the floor…er… ceiling now, that has fallen is what has acted as a new wall. It's trapped them from the stairs. The other, smaller pieces have filled in the gaps. Fire still burns on a few. In short, they're not getting out of here.

Worse still, Dean hasn't moved from where he's still laying under Sam.

* * *

><p>All of the teams are running towards the water tower after receiving the instructions, looking over their shoulders as they wait for the blast that never comes. What does come though, is a deep rumbling. The squads that are still closer to the building hear it first, slowing to look over their shoulder at the building. They see light emanating from the bottom floor.<p>

"_One of the bombs shorted,"_ one of them radios.

"Which one?" Crow asks, on his way to the water tower with most of his group. The one radioing him now was in a squad farther away than the rest.

"_Bottom floor."_

"_The Winchesters were down there,"_ someone else from Crow's squads informs him.

"Well shit," Crow answers. He's just now making it to the water tower, sighing when he sees Sky's curious look. "A bomb shorted. No word on whether the Winchesters made it out of that floor."

Sky curses, lifting his radio. "Mark, have you heard from the Winchesters?"


	26. Chapter 25

**A reasonable update. Who knew? :) This one is a little shorter, but that's just how it went.  
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**I want to thank everyone who's followed this story. This is the last 'chapter' but there will be an epilogue to wrap up just like the prologue introduced.  
><strong>

**Ch. 25**

No matter how many times they've died, or even just come close to dying, it's always like it's happening for the first time. The grip of panic, the shortness of breath when it feels like a hand is clenched around his heart, and the pure determination to make it all better. This time? They're screwed. But at least they're screwed together.

"Hey. Open your eyes. Look at me." Sam pulls Dean's head into his lap, wiping dirt and blood from his face to see the damage. He grimaces at the long slash down the side of his brother's face. It's so deep, so very deep, but it still managed to miss reaching his eye. Thank god. "Dean. Can you hear me?" He gently pats Dean's good cheek. "Wake up."

It's not like there's a guarantee they're going to make it out of here, but it's still like the world is lifted from his shoulders when Dean finally blinks open his eyes, the left one more than the right because of the swelling of the gash. "Sam."

"Right here, Dean. Don't move, 'kay? I'm still trying to see what else is wrong." He runs his hands over Dean's shoulders and arms, gently moving to prod his chest after.

Dean lets his eyes fall closed again. "What happened to m' face? It hurts," he slurs, trying not to move his face much.

"Cut pretty deep, man." He shrugs off his shirt, taking a knife and cutting it into a sizable chunk before folding it and gently resting it over the right side of his brother's upside down face before pressing a little.

Dean groans deep in his chest.

"Sorry, bro," Sam murmurs.

"You 'kay Sammy?"

Sam smiles a little. "I'm fine, Dean. But it looks like we might be trapped." He lifts his shirt away, using a clean corner to dab around the gash before throwing it to the floor somewhere after seeing the bleeding is already slowing.

Dean lets out a breath through his lips. "Great." He opens his good eye, looking up at the upside down view he has of Sam. "Any plans?"

Sam bites his lip, looking away.

Dean waits.

After a few seconds, Sam looks back down, eyes apologetic. "We give them the go ahead?" he suggests.

Dean looks up at his brother, not so little anymore, pride in both of his eyes as he opens the other one. "Go out in a blaze of glory?"

Sam smiles a little. "Why not? We'll go together."

It's kind of fitting in a way, Dean thinks. They started this life together, little Dean and little Sammy pulled into this life of monsters and fire. Seems like the only perfect way to end it. Together, fighting monsters, taken out by fire. "Radio it in, Sammy."

Sam reaches over to the bag that's laying a few feet away where it had landed on the floor after the collapse, pulling it to him and digging out the extra radio. He turns it on. "Winchesters to base. Winchesters to base, do you copy?"

After a second, they get a barrage of answers from the four leaders, asking what happened and where they've been. Mark has opened the radio waves to all of the radios. No doubt to make sure they don't miss any critical information. After it quiets, Sam looks to Dean. When he gets the nod, he takes a deep breath. Then signs their death warrant.

"Light her up boys."

There's a pause. Then Mark's voice. _"Where are you guys? You never radioed the clear. All the other groups radioed when they got clear of the danger zone. Are you on your way?"_

Sam looks down to Dean, taking his brother's hand when it's lifted towards him. All bets are off. Chick-flick moments be damned. "It looks like we won't be making it out of this one."

More silence. Then, _"What happened?"_ Crow this time.

"Had a little problem. We're trapped in a part of the basement I think. But we aren't getting out of here." The lights flicker above them. When it's silent for a while again, Sam knows they're arguing with each other about what to do. "Hey. Guys? Don't worry about us. We had a good run. Just light her up."

"_Sam…"_ Mark sounds torn. Defeated.

"You don't have much time. They'll put themselves together soon. You have our permission. Do it when you've made your decision." He sets the radio down, not noticing when the button gets stuck. He never hears Mark's answer. He looks down to Dean, eyes watering at the squeeze Dean offers with his hand. "This isn't going to be a quick death."

Dean smirks a little with the good side of his mouth. "I know."

Sam nods. He knows too.

"You sure you can't get out?"

Sam glares down at him. "I wouldn't leave you even if I could."

Dean looks up at him. "Idiot brother."

Sam grins. "I know."

Dean nods, smiling softly. He knows too.

Sam wipes the sweat from Dean's temple with the rest of his shirt that wasn't thrown across the room, looking down at his brother. "When I left for Stanford, the hardest part was leaving you."

Dean sighs. "Sam…"

Sam gives him a look, silencing him. "When I had to jump into the cage to defeat Lucifer, the hardest part was leaving you, hurt and broken against the impala. Especially knowing I did that to you."

"Wasn't you."

Sam ignores him. "Today? Staying is the easiest decision I've ever made."

Dean sighs. "You always have to ruin everything. You big girl."

Sam smiles down at him.

* * *

><p>Every man on the mission is arguing over what to do about the Winchesters. It's not just the leaders. Not just the main four. Everyone. All one hundred ninety seven men hear Sam's command. No one can agree on what to do. The group all gathered by the water tower are close enough to hear the whole thing with the way the three leaders are spread out and have their radios turned up full blast to keep everyone updated.<p>

Then Sam's voice sounds over Crow, Sky, and Drake's radios. _"Hey. Guys? Don't worry about us. We had a good run. Just light her up."_

"_Sam…"_ Mark answers. Everyone can hear the defeat in his voice.

"_You don't have much time. They'll put themselves together soon. You have our permission. Do it when you've made your decision."_

All of the men are silent now. They hear the sound of the radio shuffling and a click hinting at being set on the ground. A lot of them share glances. They all know how the buttons on these stupid radios stick sometimes.

Mark gets out one word, _"But…"_ before he realizes what happened too. He sighs. _"What do we do, boys?" _he asks the other three leaders._ "We only have another couple minutes before the leviathans can pull themselves together. Not enough time to get them out."_

Crow, Sky, and Drake gather in the middle of the rest of the men, hissing under their breath about what to do when they hear Sam's voice. It's quiet, but still clear. The air is still. The night is quiet. All of the mean are close enough to hear Sam over the three radios gathered in the middle with the leaders. _"This isn't going to be a quick death."_

It's quiet for a second. Then Dean's, _"I know."_

The leaders stop arguing then, listening too. The men around them all listen in shock. Sam's voice is softer than they've ever heard it. The most emotional. Sam has never let his guard down around anyone like this. It's fascinating.

"_You sure you can't get out?"_

"_I wouldn't leave you even if I could."_

"_Idiot brother."_

"_I know."_

It's silent air for a few seconds. Then Sam's voice again. _"When I left for Stanford, the hardest part was leaving you."_

Dean sighs. _"Sam…"_

"_When I had to jump into the cage to defeat Lucifer, the hardest part was leaving you, hurt and broken against the impala. Especially knowing I did that to you." _

"_Wasn't you."_

"We should turn these off," Sky radios to Mark.

A few men around him nod. This isn't supposed to be for them.

"_Today? Staying is the easiest decision I've ever made."_

They hear Dean sigh._ "You always have to ruin everything. You big girl."_

There's a quiet murmur through the group as some of the men chuckle.

There's the sound of fabric before a quiet, _"C'mere."_

It's quiet then. They figure the brothers had just got comfy to sit out the wait. Some believe there might be more to it. Even the ones who don't think that have heard something tonight that have finally made all of the other stories make sense. These two brothers? There's something about them that's special. That no one else has ever had. If there were any way for them to die, it'd be together. Defeating the evil they set out to destroy.

Drake sighs before lifting his radio to address Mark. "Do it. There's no other way. And they want us to."

Back at base in the hospital, Mark runs a hand through his hair. He looks at the radio. His breath catches at the next sound, heart clenching before he reaches to turn off the transmitter to the Winchesters' radio. He cuts off Dean's voice when he realizes what he's hearing. This isn't for them to hear.

He reaches for the detonator, the entire barricade in complete silence now that the radio is off. Everyone with Mark at the base watches. No one out by the water tower protests. Some are still too touched by what they heard before the radio was cut off.

Mark takes a breath, closes his eyes, and pushes the button.

* * *

><p>Dean looks up at Sam, an indescribable look on his face. He raises his other arm, the one not still holding Sam's hand. "C'mere." When Sam leans down, he rests his hand on the back of his brother's neck, pulling him down until Sam's forehead touches his. He sighs.<p>

Sam squeezes his eyes closed, this intimate position of his brother's head in his lap and his arm anchoring them together by the small point of their foreheads hits him in the gut. His body starts to shake. This is it.

Dean's fingers move a little in Sam's hair, just feeling the strands between them. He lets out another sigh before closing his eyes. When he feels Sam shaking, he does what his mom always used to do to put him and Sammy to bed. What she still did the night Sam's nursery went up in flames. Something Dean has only done a handful of times since he was six and trying to put little Sammy to bed himself two years after their mom was gone. And, as always for this, his pitch is perfect.

At the first two words, Sam grips his brother's hand tighter. He knows Dean's voice will be the last thing he hears before the explosion.

"Hey Jude, don't make it bad. Take a sad song, and make it better…"

* * *

><p><strong>So I hope you enjoyed it. Even if you didn't like it. Don't hate me? <strong>


	27. Epilogue

**There's a reason i didn't put a warning at the beginning of the previous chapter. I don't believe in giving anything away. So I apologize... but i don't. :) I am so thrilled that i was able to get the feeling across.  
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**Now the epilogue came out right after the chapter before it. Because I had a few more things to take care of. I hope it's an ending fitting to this story.  
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**Epilogue**

Mark doesn't know where the impala is. If he did, he'd find her and make sure she was okay. Maybe find someone who would treasure her like Dean did. But he has no idea where Dean had locked her up. Hopefully no one else finds her for a while. But he remembers where the cabin is. And he thinks that maybe that's where he wants to stay. It's time to retire.

Things are going back to normal. Other countries are helping them get back on track. Setting up officials. Leaders. Rebuilding cities. It'll take time to get things almost back to the way it was. Years. But they're headed in the right direction now. There may be a few more leviathans out there to hunt down, but they're floundering without their leader. And there are younger people out there who can take care of the rest. It's time to retire.

Walking up the path to the cabin, he notices the way thing have grown over in the Winchesters' absence. It seems like it's been pressed down recently though. Maybe a week ago. By a car. Mark sighs. Well, maybe they left after seeing it was empty. He hopes so. It would feel wrong for someone to live here after knowing the Winchesters had made this their home.

He gets towards the end of the trail before he hears something, deciding to walk around the edge of the trees to look through and see who it is. He swears under his breath when he sees the impala parked out in the yard. Beautiful as ever. Shiny. Clean. And… with someone working under the hood. He looks at the man in confusion.

Through the branches, it takes him a second to see past the healing gash that goes down the side of the man's face. When he does, he can only stare in shock. "Dean," he breathes. He watches him work on the car, hood up and rag in his hand as he gets all of the grime off that had built up wherever he left her. It's a shock to see such a huge mark marring what had always been a too-pretty face for a hunter.

It takes him a second to notice that there's someone missing here. He's too busy looking Dean over, seeing if he's doing alright, to notice that Sam is nowhere to be seen until Dean stands and wipes his hands on a different, cleaner, rag.

"Looks like she's almost back to normal, eh Sammy?"

Mark feels tears stinging in his eyes as he watches Dean turn around and freeze. He looks to where he knows Dean is looking. The base of a tree. It's empty. Looking to Dean's back, he watches him shake his head, looking down to where he's wiping his hands clean with the rag. He falls back to sit on the edge of the fender. When his hands are cleaner, he tosses the rag to the ground and just looks out over the yard.

The unmarred side of Dean's face is visible now. Blank. Unreadable. He sits that way for just a minute before he turns back around to finish working on the car. The small sound of a sniff. But that's it. He just keeps working. Mark decides it's time to move on. Dean's out here for a reason. Never told anyone he was alive for a reason. He wants to be alone. Mark accepts that. He turns and leaves. Lets Dean have what he wants. He doesn't know how Dean got out. Wonders if Dean had tried to get Sam out too. He decides it's not for him to know anyway.

He understands why Dean is up here. Why they'd both be here. He doesn't want the rest of his life to be dictated by people recognizing him. People knowing who he is and wanting to talk to him instead of him just being able to mosey into town to get the supplies he needs. And Mark knows that's what would have happened if he had stuck around afterwards if he had been involved with the rest of the clean up. Instead, Dean gets to live out the rest of his life in peace. An end for a hunter that is rarely, if ever, possible. But Mark wishes him the best of luck. Because if anyone deserves to have a peaceful, if not happy ending, it's Dean.

Mark is already on his way down the mountain when Sam comes around the side of the cabin, two beer bottles in his hands. He doesn't see the way Dean turns before Sam even gets close enough for Dean to hear him. Doesn't see Dean smile like he was given the whole world even though it has to pull the stitches in his face. Doesn't see Sam touch Dean's stitches gently. Doesn't see Dean take his hand away before resting his own on the back of Sam's neck. But that's okay. It's not for him to see.

Dean tilts his head a little, smile still in place. "Where'd you go?"

Sam holds up the beers.

Dean raises an eyebrow. Then grins, winces, and tones it down so as not to pull the stitches. "You read my mind, Sammy." He takes one, opens it, and hands it to Sam. Then takes the other one. "Your hand okay?"

Sam nods. Flexes it. He almost has full grip back. Opening things like cans and beer bottles still give him trouble though. He lets Dean look over the healing cut on his arm, pulling his arm away when it starts itching from Dean's gentle touch to scratch at it. The muscle underneath is still healing, making the area very sensitive.

Dean chuckles, sniffing and taking the tissue Sam holds out for him a second later. A little cold left from the sickness he got from an infection in the gash on his face is really fighting to stick around. "So… I'm almost done here. What do you want to do after?"

Sam smiles softly, waiting through Dean chugging down half of his beer before stepping forward into Dean's arms. He sighs in content as he lays his head on his brother's shoulder and feels Dean rest his arms over his back.

Dean chuckles. "A nap it is. You know, you're lucky I didn't mind being forced into all of this touchy-feely stuff."

Sam snorts, pulling back and heading towards the cabin with a roll of his eyes.

"What?"

Sam only shakes his head, laughing at Dean's explanations as to why all of this 'touchy-feely crap' is all Sam's fault. He smiles smugly to himself when later, they're both laying across each other on the couch after turning off the TV (which has recently started getting cable again with the return of reruns of TV shows and people taking up the jobs of News and Weather). He turns, moving to lay where he was the night he and Dean had waited out the moon when they feared for a werewolf bite. Right up against Dean's side.

Thinking Dean is asleep, he studies the healing gash on Dean's face. Remembers the day his brother was staring at himself in the mirror. How he had gone in and turned Dean's face to him and say, "Normal is overrated anyway." Hugged him for an immeasurable amount of time when self-confident Dean had to reestablish said self-confidence with his new face. It wasn't about good looks per say. It was just… mourning the loss of the comfortably normal and reconciling with the reality that there's a mark on his face that will draw people's attention in a way he's never been used to.

Sam studies the differences. How Dean's mouth will always curve down a little more on that side now. How his almond shaped eyes will be a little less symmetrical. But… the crows feet that show up whenever Dean smiles are still there. He saw them earlier. And really… it's like Sam's dimples for Dean. They're a sign for happiness so that's all Sam cares. He can still see the most important part of how Dean's smile affects his face.

He looks over the gash. How it's healing. With the infection gone and being almost healed up, he decides that the stitches can come out tomorrow. In a split second of decision, he touches his lips to the end of it where it curves over Dean's jaw, a barely there touch of affection. Just because he can. Not a normal brother reaction… but he could care less. Then he burrows his nose into Dean's neck and lets out a sigh.

"Such a girl," Dean murmurs.

Already half asleep, Sam barely replies with a breathed, "Jerk."

Dean chuckles a little. "Bitch."

Sam falls asleep with a soft smile on his face.

* * *

><p><strong>: Once again, I apologize for nothing. Because I just couldn't kill the boys. (even though I've been so cruel to Sam in my other stories) But that's what I had originally planned. Them dieing at the end. When it came down to it though... I wanted the heartbreaking ending. But... I also wanted it to have an unexpected happy one. So I came up with a compromise for myself. :) anyone else happy with the turnaround? If not, as I said, I'm not sorry ;) But I did what our writers of our show did with Bobby. lol Killed them off in an effectively heart-wrenching manner (according to you guys, by the way, thanks) and brought them back. (which I'm glad they did with Bobby because he's an awesome character and I'm going to stop before I go into a tangent).  
><strong>

**So anyway, I'm thinking of doing a little short story of how they escaped, yes? I'll attach it to the end of this one probably if I do. Just one last flashback to end the story.**


	28. The Secret Life of Sam and Dean

**Here it is. The last ever add to this story. It could be considered a timestamp I guess.  
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**This is the boys' escape. With a little bit of fluff in it because my creativity got away with me. It's not a huge escape. Nothing daring or too incredibly exciting. Just pure luck. Something that is rarely on the side of the Winchesters. But hey, sometimes life gives them a break. Just one little chance to make it out alive.  
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**Having said that, enjoy, lovelies. It's been fun. :)  
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* * *

><p><strong>The Secret Life of Sam and Dean<strong>

"_Hey, Dean?"_

"_Yeah?"_

"_What if we're ever stuck somewhere and you're hurt and I can't get us out because I'm so small and you're too heavy and a monster ends up killing us?"_

_Silence. Then, "When will I ever let that happen?"_

"_You aren't invincible, Dean."_

"_I won't ever let myself get hurt if you're vulnerable."_

"_You can't choose that kind of stuff." The eye roll in Sam's voice can be heard. Dean wonders if he'll ever grow out of it. He doubts it. _

Sam's ready to die. He really is. He's accepted it. So when it doesn't happen… it takes him a second to register that. The blast of all of the explosives is deafening. But… the ceiling doesn't crush them. Instead, the building seems to crumble in a way that leaves for them a way out. Sam lifts his head, looking around in awe when the blasts are all over.

The ceiling has crumbled more. The building above them is still moving. Slowly falling apart in its destruction. The fire crackles above them, smoke starts to lead down where they are trapped. But… they aren't trapped anymore. A part of the wall that had collapsed with the blast fell enough to open a gap a few feet up one of the walls. Being on the ground floor means no explosives were down here. All of the leviathans had been extracted to the floor above. Instead, it created a safe haven. Sam huffs out a laugh.

Looking down to Dean's closed eyes, he sighs, hand going to his brother's pulse just to give him peace of mind. But he already knows what's wrong. Concussion. Whatever sliced his brother's face had also hit him hard enough to create the bruise that is slowly starting to spread across his brother's forehead. Dean had stopped singing when the blast went off. It seems his body finally gave out on him sometime between then and now. Great.

"Good timing Dean," he huffs. He looks around, noticing more and more smoke making its way into their haven. Listens to the ceiling creak. The fire crackles above. The heat is getting closer. He decides it's time to get out of here. He gently moves his brother's head from his lap.

"_Dean!"_

"_Shut up."_

"_Put me down!"_

"_You know what this is?"_

"_Child abuse?"_

_An amused snort. "No. It's called a fireman's carry."_

"_Great. Now put me down."_

"_Are you paying attention?"_

"_All of the blood is rushing to my head, Dean."_

"_All the better to think with."_

"… _Wow. You actually said something intelligent."_

"_I can drop you on your head, you know."_

"_Whatever. Put me down."_

"_This is a fireman's carry. The easiest way to carry someone. Your whole body will always be stronger than just your arms."_

"_Great. Now put me down."_

_A huge sigh. "Fine." _

"_What… where are you going?"_

"_That's the last time I ever try to teach you how to rescue us."_

Slowly maneuvering his brother over his shoulders, he grimaces at the thought of sending more blood to his brother's head with the huge gash there to let it all out. But… this is the only way he'll be able to get them out of here quick enough. So with one strong heave, his brother is on his shoulders and he's stumbling towards the opening in the wall.

The ceiling keeps creaking, but Sam can tell they're going to make it before it collapses. He can't keep his balance with his brother on his shoulders to climb over the rest of the wall that's still standing. Slowly easing his brother outside the hole in the wall, he struggles to keep said brother from getting hurt on anything sharp or hard while doing so. In the process, his arm is the casualty.

His hand instantly releases his brother as a searing pain suddenly races up his arm. Letting out a string of curses, he leans against the wall and cradles his arm to him. "Great. Just great," he hisses. For a frightening moment, he thinks he's going to pass out. Blood is pouring from his arm and the pain is incredible. In a desperate move, he pulls his last remaining shirt off and ties it around his arm. His good arm and mouth pull it tight with a hiss let out through his teeth at the sharp spark of pain.

He gives himself a second to recover before reaching up to the side of the gap in the wall to pull himself up a little with his good arm. Stepping on the bottom of the gap, he does a tuck and roll out of the burning building to avoid stepping on his brother and anything else sharp that may be protruding from the destroyed wall. A quick check of his brother shows he avoided letting anything happen to him.

But now there's the problem of trying to get him on his back with one arm. The hand of the arm that was cut barely has any grip. The cut made it too deep. Hopefully not deep enough to never get the use of his hand back, but it is deep enough that it's going to take a long time to heal. So now he has no means of carrying his brother. Great.

"_So… what if I'm hurt and can't carry you?" It's a desperate attempt. To show his appreciation for being taught._

_A weary sigh. _

"_Sorry." It's mumbled. "I just…"_

"_I don't have all the answers, Sammy." It's said with such… disappointment._

"_I know that. But… it never hurts to be prepared, right?"_

_A snort. "Why are you so sure we're going to be trapped and you'll have to carry me but won't be able to anyway?"_

"_I'm so small," he mumbles. "I just… don't want to let you down."_

"_C'mere, kiddo." Arm wraps around shoulders. "You won't ever let me down. You hear? People make mistakes. People have weaknesses. But I know you'll do your best. You'll do what you have to. Besides, you'll get taller. Stronger. You might even be as tall as me someday."_

"_You think so?"_

"_Well sure. I don't see why not."_

"_What if I get taller than you?" Teasing now. Letting go of worry for today._

_A chuckle. "Never. I'm the big brother."_

Somehow, with a lot of patience and maneuvering, he gets his brother over one of his shoulders. His bad arm wraps around his brother's legs. Hold them to his chest. It makes his arm burn. It's excruciating. But it's what he has to do. His other hand moves around to pull an arm over and hold it. In all, he's carrying his brother. It hurts, it's extremely difficult, and it's tiring, but it works.

When he's ten feet away, the entire building collapses. He doesn't turn around. Just smirks to himself. Once again, they made it out just in time. Story of their life.

It's only a minute later that he hears a quiet voice. "As attractive as you may think your ass is, I'd rather be on my feet."

Sam grins, kneeling down to set his brother's feet on the ground. He doesn't move as he feels his brother use his shoulders for leverage to stand up. He keeps still while Dean leans on him, watching his brother's face as he fights off the obvious dizzy spell. When Dean finally opens his eyes again, he stands.

Dean blinks at Sam's naked chest, looking up in confusion. "Any reason why you aren't wearing a shirt?"

Sam holds out his arm.

Dean frowns, wincing afterwards from the movement of his face, but still reaches for Sam's arm.

Sam pulls it back. "Try not to make too many facial expressions," he warns, a little amused. "The cut on your face is a nasty one."

Dean nods, motioning with his hand for Sam to give him his arm.

With a sigh, Sam complies. "We can't worry about this right now."

"Shut up."

"_Why don't you ever worry about yourself?"_

"_What?"_

"_Why don't you ever worry about yourself?"_

"_What are you talking-?"_

"_You always freak out when I'm hurt. But when you're hurt, you don't seem to care."_

"_I have to take care of you."_

"_You have to take care of yourself too, Dean."_

"_You come first."_

"_But… can you do me a favor?"_

_Huge sigh. "What, Sam?"_

"_Worry about yourself. For me. So I know you're not going to do anything stupid and I don't have to worry enough for the both of us."_

_Silence. Then, "Okay, Sammy."_

"_Thanks, Dean."_

"That doesn't look good. And I don't feel so great. How about we get out of here?"

Sam nods.

Dean starts off.

"Wait."

Dean looks to him inquisitively out of his one good eye. "What?"

"Can… can we just go to the cabin?"

Dean blinks that one good eye, a hundred thoughts going through his head. In a second, he sees exactly what Sam wants. A quiet life after this. No one knowing them. No one bothering them. Just the two of them up in their cabin. No pressure. No one looking to them to fix anything. They've done their part. Everyone else can help put the continent back together. If they just leave now, disappear, they're dead. No one knows what they look like outside this camp. They can disappear.

Dean looks to Sam, good side of his face turning up into a smile. "That's the best idea you've ever had, Sammy."

Then the Winchesters do something they hope is for the last time. They head home. The water tower, the burning building, the people, all disappear behind them. It's time to go home.

"_Hey, Dean?"_

"_Yeah?"_

"_Do you think we'll ever have a home?"_

_An inquisitive look._

"_I mean a real home. One we don't have to leave."_

"_Oh. Of course. You know we will. Like dad says, after we kill the thing that killed mom. We'll have our own house, picket fence and all. We could even get a dog."_

_A bright smile. "Really?"_

_A chuckle. "Of course. You and me. We'll get a dog and name him something so normal and lame like Fido."_

_A happy laugh. Something that seems rare these days. "I don't think I've even heard of a real dog named Fido."_

"_Well ours will be."_

_It's silent for a few minutes. The stars above them are bright. The hood of the car is cool beneath them from the night air but neither are cold. They lay too close to be. Touching from shoulder to foot. Like always. _

"_Do you promise?"_

"_What?"_

"_That we'll have a house."_

"_Of course. Why not?"_

"_It just… seems hard to believe."_

"_Well I promise. Someday we'll have our own house."_

"_And Fido."_

"_And Fido."_

It takes them a few weeks to get home. Because with Dean's face that constantly needs medical supply searches, and Sam's arm that seems to be completely useless, they take detours. They get medicine, stitches, bandages, food, and other supplies. They do eventually find a supply of gas that Dean fills a can with. They pick up the impala, staying in the lockup for a day while Dean fills her with gas and gives her a tune up so she'll actually run after almost a year of being left here. After spreading his arms wide and laying face down on the hood to give her a hug much to Sam's amusement. Then they start the last leg of their journey home.

Pulling up to the edge of the woods where Dean knows the drive is, he stops and looks at how it's grown over. It's bad, but not bad enough to keep the impala out. He looks over to Sam. "Well… looks like we'll just have to deal with it. What's a few more scratches? I have the rest of our lives to fix her up now."

Sam grins.

So Dean drives her right through the brush. All the way to the cabin. He cringes a little, sure, but it's as he said. He has the rest of their lives to fix it. He still lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding when they finally make it to the clearing.

The grass is long. There are branches all over the yard. The cabin looks a little more run down than it used to. But the windows and doors are still boarded up. That's a good sign. To anyone else, the place would look ominous. Abandoned. To them, it looks like home.

They lean against the car for a while. Just looking at it. Dean's arms crossed over the top, chin resting on them. Sam leaning back against the door he just closed to cross his feet. His hand rests on the hood next to him, the hand of his bad arm supported in his pocket.

"This what you always pictured?"

Sam shakes his head, looking back over his shoulder at Dean. "It's better."

Dean smiles, watching Sam's hand as he turns back to look at the cabin. How it pats the hood of the car in a silent goodbye. And thanks. For being their home for all of these years. But now they have a real one. All theirs. He stays where he is for a little longer. Leaning on the impala as he watches Sam walk up to the cabin. Wonders if this is what he had pictured when he thought of settling down. He decides he doesn't care.

Sam looks over his shoulder. "Coming?"

Dean smiles. Pats the top of the car in his own silent goodbye. "Absolutely. We have a lot of house cleaning to do."

Sam smiles brightly back at him.

"_Hey, Dean?"_

"_Yeah?"_

"_Remember when you promised we'd have a house?"_

_A punch to the gut would have been nicer. Staring at his brother, not having enough breath to answer, he watches as Sam just stares back. _

_Then, oh God, he speaks again. "And when you promised I'd never let you down?"_

"_You haven't," he chokes out._

"_Then why does it feel like that's what you think?" is the quiet question._

_Neither speak for a while. It's still dark. Light should be coming soon though. Right now… it's the stars above. Like it's always been. And every time, he'd made promises. On the hood of the car. Under the stars. A beer in both of their hands when he finally let Sam have one. He vows that when… no… IF they ever do that again, he's never saying a word._

_Right now, he wants to say so much. That they could have a house someday. If he didn't leave. That he wasn't letting him down. That he's so incredibly proud of his little brother. For getting into Stanford. For standing up to dad. For being brave enough to want to leave and face the world alone. For everything. But he doesn't._

_The town is still silent in the early morning. So it's easy to hear when the bus arrives. Neither are brave enough to say anything more until it stops. The doors open. Sam takes a step towards the stairs, shouldering his bag. _

"_Sammy."_

_Sam freezes, debating before turning._

_Dean walks up and pulls him into his arms. "You'll have your home someday," he murmurs. "Even if it isn't ours. Even if there's no picket fence or a dog named Fido. Even if you have to fight to get there. You'll get it. I promise."_

_Sam hugs him back just as tight. Doesn't say anything. But he knows, even though it hasn't happened yet, that Dean has never made a broken promise._

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><p><strong>*Gives a farewell bow* Thank you for the lovely comments throughout. And for all of your support. And comments months or years from now will still be appreciated, new readers. :) I would love to know what everyone thinks, whether the story is done or not. But for the last time, thanks you guys. It's been fun writing my first Supernatural story. Oneshots will resume until a new muse has caught my fancy. So check out my other writings.<br>**

**Keep calm and Carry on. Season 8 will be here before you know it.  
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